Mutilation
by cyansapphire
Summary: On this day, there was no Rider upon the great dragon's back. There was no flaming sword or any determination. Could it be that the roar the warriors of the Varden had so blatantly heard, was actually a cry? A desperate wail begging for someone to hear her, to heal her of her agony. Could it be that the young Rider, their greatest hope, was lost?
1. Captured

Mutilation

The triumphant roar of the mighty blue dragon, Saphira, could have been heard from miles away. The thunderous sound was a challenge. She was _daring_ someone to standout, to strike against them and to face the magnificent beast that struck fear into the hearts of their enemies, along with her Rider who could always be found upon her back, with a flaming blue sword and a look of determination that would make a lesser man quail in fear.

However, on this day, there was no Rider upon the great dragon's back. There was no flaming sword or any looks of determination. Could it be that the roar that the warriors of the Varden had so blatantly heard was actually a cry? A desperate wail begging for someone to hear her, to heal her of her agony. Could it be that the young Rider, their greatest hope, was lost?

* * *

Arya had been healing the wounded for roughly two hours now and her energy was quickly fading. The Varden had successfully captured Dras Leona and she had already been exhausted with the energy lost during the battle. Deciding that she was satisfied with the lives she had saved and the pain she had ended, she stood from her crouched position looking down at the young boy who could be no older then seventeen. He looked up at her and smiled before bouncing to his feet.

"Thank you, elf, I guess your kind are not so bad after all." With that he turned and all but ran down the street towards a group of other young soldiers. She felt a brow raise itself at how energetic he could be after receiving such a grievous wound that would have killed him had she not been there to heal him. She shook her head, a small smile splayed upon her lips. The boy reminded her so much of the young Rider who she had grown fond of.

* * *

_Both Eragon and Arya had been sparring for the entire day. Arya had of course won every time thus far and she gave no indication of losing anytime in the near future. She watched as Eragon closed his eyes and she waited. She waited for nearly an hour when finally, his eyes snapped open. The raven hair elf was surprised by the new glint in his dark orbs. Each time they had sparred, there were always conflicting emotions in his eyes. Ever since Glaedr had awoken, he had been teaching Eragon how to better defeat his opponent and with each piece of advice he had gotten better. Now, there was no conflict. In fact, the only thing she could see in his eyes was a calm determination. She silently praised him for his new found collected attitude. _

_"Ready?" she queried._

_"Ready," he confirmed._

_This time when he came at her, his movements were more fluid, his attacks, more articulate. Their dance began again. _

_They moved in and out dodging and attacking at the perfect moments using everything they knew about the other to their advantage. She was too confident, too safe in her abilities. It was her downfall. He defeated her once. Twice. From then out, she gave him no room. She attacked with everything she had and he did the same. Each time they ended in a draw and each time her regard for him grew. He was no longer the farm boy from Carvahall. No, he was their hope. He was Alaga__ë__sia's _last_ hope._

_Her beliefs were confirmed when their swords clashed once more and ended up locked together at the hilt. Each pushing, trying to gain advantage over the other. Their faces were mere inches from each other and when she looked into his eyes, she saw an emotion that only one word could ever describe. _Fire_._

_"I... see... you."_

_She knew he was not lying._

* * *

That was the first time Arya truly recognized the potential the young Rider had. They had reconciled after his rather obscene confession during the Agaetí Blodhren. When she trekked across the land to find him, after his escapade in Helgrind, she was surprised to see distinct wisdom she had not noticed before. A new maturity existed where there had once been naivety and that made her pause.

While they were conversing around the camp fire, she had seen a new side of him. One that was not previously there. Or perhaps, she did not previously notice. It interested her, drew her in. When he asked about Faolin, she was immediately suspicous of his intentions. His eyes were far too easy to read, a quality that she liked about him though she was loathe to admit it, even to herself. What surprised her was that there was no desire or jealousy in his eyes, they were not even filled curiosity, which was a rare site indeed. The only thing that existed in his eyes was something tender, kindness, an understanding gaze that terrified her as much as it filled her with intrigue.

It was only after seeing this did she open up. She allowed him to see the flaws and the broken portions of her personality. She allowed him to see her vulnerablity when she shed tears and was shocked when she saw the compassion in his chocolate orbs didn't waver. It only grew, engulfing her into the living flame she came to recognize him as. It was on that night that their friendship was repaired and it was on that night Arya felt just a little bit stronger with the support of her devoted friend.

Arya was jolted from her contemplations when she heard a cry of agony that could only belong to a dragon. Arya looked towards the sky hearing the bellows of pain from hundreds of feet bellow the sapphire dragon that had become her friend. What had gone wrong? Her brows furrowed, she could not see any wounds upon the dragoness and Eragon would have healed them the instant after she had received them. Why was she acting so desperate, so fearful?

It was only then that the emerald eyed beauty realized that Eragon was not upon his dragon's back. Eragon was nowhere to be seen.

She threw our her mind, sending out a probe to find the leader of Eragon's guards. _Blödhgarm_,_ is Eragon with you?_

There was a slight pause before the wolf-like elf responded.

_No, Dröttningu. We had assumed that he was with you._

Arya immediately began to go through every possibility that could have occurred, and quickly contacted the grieving dragoness.

_Bjartskular, where is Eragon?_

_Gone, gone, GONE! _As if feeling a need to prove her words she let loose another pained howl before she continued. _The accursed red rider managed to sneak into the city without his disgusting red beast. Eragon was healing an injured child when he came and used magic to render him unconscious. _Saphira's words came quick, not at all like the powerful voice she had grown accustomed to. Her voice was weak, panicked and utterly terrified.

Arya, in an attempt to soothe the distressed dragoness began speaking in a calming voice, using the Ancient Language so as to prove the truth of her words. _Calm yourself, Saphira, losing control will only be detrimental in any attempt we make to rescue Eragon._

Instead of calming the dragon, her words seemed to have the opposite affect. The normally collected sapphire like dragon dove towards the ground only to pull up at the last second allowing her muscled legs to take the brunt of the impact. The ground shook and from where Arya stood she could see cracks in the Earth from the massive dragon's landing. Her words, laced with unconcealed venom, cut through the elf's mind and allowed all of her rage to show.

_Calm? How can you expect me to be calm when my other half has been taken by his own blood to the black King? How can you expect me to except that my partner-of-heart is gone? You never cared for him at all, did you? To you, we are little more then tools of destruction. To you, our only purpose is to further the Varden's endeavor! I had known you were cold _elf,_ but never did I imagine you would betray us. _

With those final words, she took off in an attempt to save her Rider from the torture he was bound to face with the dark tyrant. Her rage towards Arya keeping her going despite the exhaustion she felt creeping in her limbs courtesy of the recent battle. In the back of her mind she knew the elf had meant no harm in her words, and she also knew that eventually she would have to stop and return to the Varden, with or without her Rider, but for now, she would follow him diligently. She had failed to protect her Rider, and could only hope that he could be saved and that he would forgive her for her incompetence.

* * *

Eragon woke up, groggy and confused. It was dark, more so then it normally would be, and it was quiet. Too quiet for him to be in a city filled with the Varden's army. He sat up with a jolt and dread begin to fill him.

He was in a dungeon. A dark, dirty, blood-stained, dungeon.

More than that, the blue Rider was exhausted. He barely had enough energy to sustain a conscious state of mind, let alone use magic. It was not a drug that had inebriated his ability to use magic, of that he was certain, for he could remember the Ancient Language in its entirety. It was only then that he noticed the golden bands wrapped around his wrists. They were draining his energy while barely allowing him enough to keep him alive and awake. He was drugged, just not by the particular drug he was expecting. It was a sense enhancing one, a drug that allowed you to feel things to extremes; the likes of which he had never felt before. Including pain.

He could feel the cold biting into his skin and his tight muscles clenched. His body was bruised in numerous areas and he had to bite back a groan. If he had not even been tortured yet, then what would the real thing feel like?

He heard a serpent like voice that could only belong to one man.

"Welcome to my home, _Shadeslayer._ I do hope that you are comfortable here." An arrogant smirk accompanied the disgusting voice. "I suppose that you cannot get very comfortable in a dungeon, so I will get on with my proposal then. I can give you anything you would want, Eragon. I could give you riches, women, power. Anything you want it would be yours, in return for your loyalty."

The King was surprisingly not as ugly as he had expected. On the contrary, he appeared to be in his early fourties with dark hair that appeared to just be greying. He was very lean and did not appear to have an ounce of fat on his body, only toned muscles, at least from what Eragon could see beneath his clothing. He misconceptions of the King left him speechless for only a moment.

Eragon deciding to make his opinion known, sneered, "Do forgive me, _Your Highness, _I do not bargain with snakes."

He heard a menacing laugh just before a red-hot metal chain was whipped unforgiving across his back. Now he understood why they called him the Mad King. It was not his physical appearence that was mad, it was his soul. The only way you could see how made he truly was, on the outside, was his eyes. They gleamed with insanity and loneliness. Could losing your dragon really leave you in such a pitiful state?

Eragon refused to cry, refused to let his pain show. He was not weak, he would not give the King any sort of satisfaction by letting him hear his pained screams.

The King chuckled darkly, "Then I shall enjoy breaking you." And with that, the chains came down once more.

* * *

**Well? So I read everyone's review on my last fic and I wanted to thank you all for reviewing and also for giving me some good advice. I couldn't wipe the smile off my face when I saw all the good things you guys said about me and also your ways in which you thought I could improve.**

**I decided that I would attempt to write my first Multi-Chapter Fic and this was the outcome. This is obviously only the first chapter and I've already written the second chapter. It just needs to be looked over and revised.. the stuff every writer hates! I want to know what everyone thinks of this. I have a bunch of ideas for future stories but this one has been in my head for quite some time and I figured, "Why not?" I want to keep writing this but if no one likes it then there's not really any point. Should I continue? Do you like where this is going? I tried my hardest to do the things that people liked in my last fic but I'm not so sure that I was successful. Stay tuned for future chapters (if you like it). Bewarned I may change the rating in the future. Let me know if there are any errors or something you don't like/something you want. Thanks!**


	2. Faith

Mutilation

It had been hours since the dark king began his work upon the blue Rider. He seemed to have a sick sense of satisfaction at seeing the young Rider in pain. The King was incredibly thorough when it came to torture. Eragon had only been in his presence for a few hours, yet there was no place on his body that was left unmarked.

What truly terrified Eragon was not the pain, no, he could handle pain. What terrified him was the fact that the tyrant did not ask him for his loyalty after he had originally asked. It confused him greatly. Didn't Galbatorix want another Rider on his side? Didn't Galbatorix need a female dragon and her Rider? He voiced his concerns only to be laughed at.

"Foolish farm boy. I could have given you anything and everything. The whole of Alagaësia could have been yours, yet you refused me. I always get what I want in the end, it does not matter whether or not you join me willingly, you will join me and that is satisfying. Until then, I will enjoy the pain I can bestow upon the child who resisted me for so long. After all, insubordination is intolerable. "

"You need me. I am the Rider of the last female dragon. Without me, the dragons will perish and your power will never grow."

The King let out a dark laugh openly displaying how mad he truly was. "You mistake my intentions, Rider. I need your dragon, but I certainly do not need you. Until your dragon makes an appearance, you will suffer."

For the next few weeks, the citizens of Uru'baen got used to the strangled cries of the tortured Rider. Some prayed, others openly mourned for the loss of their hope and their only chance at freedom. Most, however, had faith that the Rider would stay strong and perhaps escape from the terrible city of doom, that was once known as Ilirea.

* * *

The elf could hear the wind whipping in her ears and her hair flicking across her back as she ran as fast as she possibly could. She had just killed a group of the King's scouts, brutally crushing their minds, searching for any way into the dark city and pass the wards that protected it. It had been two months she had last seen her dear friend and the Varden's only hope. She hoped with all her might that he had not broken.

Arya knew first hand what it felt like to be tortured. She knew the strength it took to not succumb to the madness that the pain entailed, she knew the strength it took not to give in. She knew that Eragon was strong enough to overcome such challenges, but he was not being tortured by a shade with limited resources. He was being tortured by the dark King the Varden so vehemently opposed. The man who had destroyed the Riders and forced the broken souls of the dragons into slavery at the scathing touch of his mind. It would be a miracle if Eragon had strong enough barriers to defy the _King,_ let alone hundreds of dragons whom were older than even she was.

Yet she had faith. Every night she would see him in her dreams. She would see what they did to him and she would know that he had not failed them. He had not given up faith yet. That alone gave her the strength to push forward and continue her search for the lost Rider. Though at times, uncertainty settled in the pit of her stomach. Were the images she saw visions, or just figments of her imagination? Were her dreams real, or just what she wanted to see? That thought alone nearly choked her with fear when she dwelled on it for too long.

She had to remain optimistic. She had to believe in the young Rider that had wormed his way into her heart. She had to have faith that her friend had not broken and that she would prevail. She had to hope that fate was on her side. The only problem was that fate did not seem to like the Elven Princess.

* * *

Eragon had lost count of the days he had been in the cold dark dungeon. There were no windows and the only measure of time he had was when the King came and went. It felt like he had been in this hell for eternity but in truth, he could have been here for days, possibly even hours. There was no time in this place of misery.

There was no happiness or hope, only darkness and despair. All the young Rider knew was that he could not lose faith, he could not give up. There was too much at stake, too many he people he loved. If he broke they would be endangered. The only problem was that he didn't know who he was protecting anymore. He didn't comprehend who he was fighting for. He could not remember his own name let alone the names of the people he once held close to his heart. He lived in a desolate world now. Alone.

He supposed he should be worried about his mental health. Pain had no meaning to him anymore. After weeks of screaming and begging, he felt nothing. His throat was bloody from all his hoarse yells and his body, in tattered pieces. Yet he did not even blink at the pain. No longer did he scream whilst being tortured. He just sat there, waiting for the inevitable end. He waited for the day when the King would become bored and decide that his toy was no longer worth the trouble. Only then would he be released. He waited for the day death would come, because only then would he taste freedom once more.

Though he hoped that the King would become bored, he knew it was not meant to be. The King wanted something from him. What it was, he could no longer remember, nor could he bring himself to care. Everything he had ever believed in was a lie. There is no happiness in life. There is only an illusion that the ignorant believe. There was no purpose in living when death was so much easier. If he still had the ability to care he may have smiled bitterly at the thought. Life was meaningless. Only in death would you ever find peace.

He could hear the heavy footsteps of the King. He was once more coming to play with his favorite toy. He only blinked and prepared himself for the next few hours of pain that he could no longer feel. He was numb and he couldn't bring himself to care in the slightest.

This time, however, there were two sets of footsteps. He did not panic, it was probably just the King's other toy. He knew that he should remember who this person was, for surely he played a significant role in the agonized boy's life. He looked familiar and each time he saw the man he felt a strange rush of recognition. Not that he cared. No, Eragon could no longer care.

The man's expression always made the Rider pause. It was one of deep sorrow, one of pity, one that would have probably have meant something to the Rider before the pain, but now, he didn't bother questioning the man and even if he could, he doubted he would get an answer.

For a brief moment, the echoing footsteps traveling down the empty corridor ceased. His cell door creaked open to reveal the King in all of his glory, along side him, the familiar man he could not truly remember.

"Good afternoon, pet." The tyrant waited for a response before thrashing the boy's skull with a hard fist. "Answer me, Rider." The boy just continued with his blank stare, not feeling the affects of the blow he had just received. "I. SAID. ANSWER. ME."

The Rider blinked and then said in a monotone voice the first words that came to mind. "I did not know that snakes could speak." He felt a fist continually thrash his skull and a sharp object pierce in between his ribs. Not to fear though, he was used to it at this point.

The blue Rider did not respond in any way. He only continued with a black stare. He saw the man that had entered with Galbatorix look away in guilt. What had he done? Did he wrong Eragon in his life? The boy didn't deem it important enough to ask the question.

He watched his breaker undo his chains and waited for today's events to begin.

* * *

Galbatorix released him from his chains and watched as he collapsed to the floor. Smirking, the tyrant grabbed the boy by his hair and began dragging him to the room that he had been using the past few weeks to torture the Rider in. The boy's cell had begun to reek of blood, burning flesh and death. Galbatorix did desire such an odor whilst playing with his favorite toy so he had all his favorite instruments moved to a separate location and took joy in the broken shell of a Rider he had created.

Today, he planned to try his newest creation upon the Rider. The bone grinder. It was something he took great pride in due to how effective the results of this particular method of torture were. He had yet to try it with his pet but now was as good a time as any.

The mechanism consisted of two spheres attached by a gear that would move them in the same direction. The spheres met at the bottom and would grind anything he put into them, his personal favorite being human bones. He gave a terrorizing grin and watched with growing joy his other pet's growing horror. Murtagh was not nearly as fun to torture simply because he was so submissive. Eragon, however, had not once given up. He had stopped screaming many weeks ago and since then, Galbatorix had been looking for new ways to bring him pain.

The bloodlust he felt was consuming and the frustration at his lack of results was growing. He had tried everything. He had burned, sliced, drowned, broken, poisoned and even poured sethr oil on to the Rider's already mutilated body. Nothing had worked, nothing had made him scream. He would just lie there staring blankly ahead as if he wasn't feeling anything at all, but the King remained persistent.

The lust he felt for the boy's pained screams was quickly stripping him of his self control. He couldn't wait any longer, he had to break something and his pet was perfect for that. He turned on the machine, watching as the gears began to turn and spheres began to grind into one another. He looked over his shoulder to see Eragon giving the machine an empty stare. His frustration grew to insurmountable levels. He grabbed the boy's already broken arms and pulled him to the machine.

He felt a maniacal grin make its way across his face and looked at the boy once more, "Last chance, fool. Join me and you will not feel this pain." He had spoken in the ancient language. If the Rider joined him he would not be able to use this particular machine on him. He sincerely hoped the Rider would deny his offer, for he had been looking forward to using this method of torture on him.

He watched the boy blink and listened as he said in an flat voice, "Bite me."

The King's grin only grew larger, "With pleasure."

The people of Uru'baen heard the Rider's screams for the first time in weeks and for the strangest reason, they felt more hope. His screams meant that he had not yet broken. His screams meant their hope had not yet died.

* * *

Somewhere in a dark forest, just outside the borders of Uru'baen, an anguished cry filled the air. The elven ambassador had watched her dear friend suffer the worst pain imaginable and not give in. She had watched for weeks as Galbatorix had tortured her closest friend while she had been trying desperately to make into Uru'baen without alerting the guards or wards of her presence.

She would have to find a way to get in soon. She knew that Eragon would not be able to take much more. She knew he had broken, yet he did give in. He still fought through the pain to protect the ones dearest to him. He had sacrificed more than any other in this war for the sake of keeping his loved ones safe. She could only hope that he could stay strong for a little longer. She would be there to rescue _her _hope soon enough.

* * *

**Hola! S'going on? I know I ask this all the time, but what did you think? I honestly don't like this chapter...like at all. I am unfortunately on a time limit because I'm leaving for vacation this afternoon, and I needed to finish. That's also the reason I'll probably have tons of mistakes in here. I revised the best I could in five minutes and I wasn't very thorough. ****I have half of the third chapter written and I plan on finishing it soon but I doubt I'll be able to post it until the end of my vacation. I also know someone asked for me to make my chapters longer. I couldn't do that this time, but I will try to in the future. I can't promise a super long chapter both because I am so busy and because I like to end my chapters at certain moments. I will try to make them longer but I don't want to make them too long because then everything starts to become redundant. **

**There's only one last thing I want to ask...well two. First question: where do you want this to end? I originally planned on ending it just before the final battle with an epilogue of everything that has happened since. The epilogue would include what happened in the final battle, the aftermath, the rise of the Riders, and Eragon's new life. The other option would be to include the final battle and the aftermath and then end with a fluffy moment. I'm leaning more towards the idea with epilogue but I want YOUR opinion.**

**Last question: What kind of story are you looking for? No matter what happens, Eragon is not going to be a dimwitted moron running around confessing his love and there definitely will not be a lot of fluff. Imagine how Arya was after torture and ask yourself if you think Eragon would be any better. Another thing, this story is not completely centered around Eragon and Arya. They're more of a side story and motivation for Eragon to keep fighting. The idea that Arya would even consider a relationship before the end of the war is way out of character, but for her to be all loving and what-not would not happen. EVER. Even if this is the case, I am willing to add more fluff just for all you guys who want it. Not too much, but more then I was planning on. Let me know because I take your advice to heart. Next chapter is on its way.**


	3. Sacrifice

Mutilation

She was nothing. The last free dragon, the being that struck fear into the heart of many, was nothing. She was no more than a broken shell of what she used to be. She had no right to call herself a dragon, for she had failed. She had failed her Rider, she had failed Alagaësia, she had failed her masters, but most of all, she had failed herself. Her other half had been captured because she was not there. Her other half was gone because she had been too weak, too ignorant. She would never forgive herself for this.

She could feel the loss reeling in her mind, the magnitude of her emotions causing her to sink deeper and deeper into the depths of the hell she had allowed herself to fall into, that she had allowed her Rider to fall into. Each moment he wasn't there, she was in agony. The separation would not have been nearly as bad if their bond was not so strong. Though the distance separating them was miles, she could still feel him. Perhaps not as well, but she could feel him nonetheless.

At the beginning, she could feel his despair through their bond. She could feel his pain while being tortured and she could feel the desperation he felt to escape the pit he was thrown into. His pain was tolerable, it meant he had not given up, but over the past few weeks, his emotions had changed. In truth, there were hardly any emotions at all. She could not feel his pain and she could not feel his despair. The only reason she knew they were still bonded at all was because she could feel his desire. His desire to escape, not just his dungeon, but life itself, and that was truly terrifying.

If his own agony wasn't enough, she was putting herself through even worse pain. Her health was deteriorating. She had not eaten since her Rider was captured, she did not have the appetite. She was covered in dirt and blood and her temper had reached the point to where she could snap at any moment. Nasuada had even asked her to relocate herself so that the Varden would not lose the already nonexistent morale the soldiers had after their Rider's capture. She had only complied because Eragon would have wanted to help the Varden in anyway possible.

She knew that Arya was out there, attempting to rescue her Rider. She knew that she may see her Rider once more, but until then, she would suffer, if only to fulfill the punishment she believed she deserved for her incompetence.

Saphira Bjartskular was truly and utterly, nothing.

* * *

Arya let a grim smile cross her face for the first time in months. Tonight was the night, the night she would get Eragon out of this hell or die trying. _Everything_ depended on her actions tonight. _Everyone_ was depending on her to save their hope. She could not fail, she _would_ not fail.

The elven princess had found a way to counter all the wards surrounding the dark city, or at least she hoped she did. There could always be wards that she had not detected. She could only hope her abilites in the art of detection was as good as her abilities in the art of swordplay.

* * *

Galbatorix was usually in his room at this time, however, on this night, he was constructing his newest method of torture. The idea was simple. He would cool a room to freezing cold temperatures and pour water all over his victims until they died a slow, agonized death. He would of course, not kill his prize.

The Rider was too important.

He had succeeded in breaking him, yet the boy would still not yield. The King was generous in a sense, he offered the boy a chance to end the pain, to join him and gain whatever luxuries his heart could desire. He could see the longing in the boy's eyes. The Rider _needed_ to give in. The desire was so powerful the tyrant himself could not comprehend how he denied it.

Many times, he had contemplated breaking the Rider's mind, but no, he had come too far. He had done far too much to the boy only to break his mind now. Many thought him cruel, but in truth, he was not. The King had come to respect the Rider and his determination to protect the ones close to his heart. He would not force the boy to join him. If only because it reminded him much of what he was like at the Rider's age. The boy's defiance was something to respect and so he would wait. The prize, his success, in the end, would all be worth it.

In the end, Galbatorix always got what he wanted. When _she_ died, and _they_ would not allow him to replace her, he took initiative. Through work and much blood, he won Shruikan. When they attacked him, calling him things like an "Abomination," or a "Traitor," he showed them who the true abominations were. They were weak and so they ceased to exist. Galbatorix firmly believed the weak had no place in this world, and that he, being that strongest, would rise above them.

He would lead Alagaësia to a future of perfection. He would eradicate the true demons of the world: the Elves, Dwarves and Urgals. He would rebuild the Riders and all of Alagaësia would know him as the greatest King to ever exist. True, there would be some liabilities, such as the Varden and it's allies and there certainly would be problems when the time came to change the world, but he would push through any problems he may face and peace would reign through his home once more. He was unstoppable, he always got what he wanted, and right now, he wanted the Rider.

* * *

_Everything was distorted. What was this place? It was certainly not any place he had been to before, nor a place he knew of that existed. This was a strange world. _

_This place comforted him. He was the only one here, the only one that could travel to this foreign place. He was safe, for the first time in a long time, he was safe. He never wanted this to end._

_Suddenly, the distorted world around him became clear. Where was he? The trees were so very tall, so very beautiful. He felt at home here. When he looked down at his body, he was surprised to see that he had been garbed in a soft blue tunic that covered his torso and black breeches that appeared to conform around his body. Where were the wounds that had plagued him for so long? Where was the pain that accompanied those wounds?_

_Upon further examination he realized that this forest looked familiar. Had he been here before? He must have been, this place was too familiar for him to have never been here before, for him to imagine it's beauty. When could he have come here? When was the last time he had breathed in the _real _air that existed here? _

_He tried, he truly did, to remember what this place was and why it was so important, yet, he could not grasp the memory. Just like he could not grasp his other memories. He could not recall the who he was, let alone the people who were important to him. "Who am I?" his voice catching and the pain of his experiences was truly shown._

"_Eragon…" a soft voice whispered, as if answering his question._

_He looked up. Eragon? Who was Eragon? Was he Eragon? He looked around, his head spinning in all directions. There was no one. He was alone. The thought of being anymore alone than he already was sent shockwaves of misery down his spine. Why? Before the thought of being alone had pleased him. What had changed?_

"_Eragon..." The soft voice almost purred._

_That voice; it made him feel safe. It was encompassing, it was…familiar?_

"_Is…Is anyone there?" He waited for a response, but none came. So he had finally gone mad. The carefully placated mask of indifference was crumbling. He had nearly given up all hope when the voice whispered one last time._

"_Sacrifice is a part of who you are. It is not something to mourn; it is something to aspire to._

* * *

Eragon shot awake. For the first time, in a seemingly long time, he remembered his name. Perhaps not anything other than his name, but his name and that was a start. That voice still echoed in his mind. The voice was feminine and it sounded almost…tender. Like someone who cared about him. He didn't know who it was, but it made him feel safe; something he had not felt in a very long time.

His wounds throbbed painfully all over his body, proof that this was indeed reality. He wondered if the world he had just visited was just a figment of his own imagination trying to escape the captivity and fear that had been established in his mind since he was first captured.

He looked down to his arms, surprised to find them there and in tact. Was the bone grinder just something his mind had made up as well or did Galbatorix heal him? That could not be; the King would never heal him, if only because the satisfaction of his tortured body pleased him so much. Though it must be true. His mind, no matter how gruesome the horrors it may have seen were, could never hope to create a pain so realistic to the one he felt inside the torture chamber. He could not think of any circumstance in which the king would heal him unless his wounds were truly life threatening.

He looked down once more and tried to move them, surprised to find them working and mobile. They were still incredibly sore and he was still in terrible agony, but this brief shock distracted him, if only for a moment before-

_Eragon!_

The contact was so unexpected that he flinched, immediately falling back into the walls of his own mind. He felt a peculiar pressure around his mind and quickly concluded that someone was trying to get access. Though there was something about this mind that made him pause. It was…gentle. It was not attacking his mind, it was caressing it, soothing it and asking _permission _to enter. He took a chance and opened the first barrier to his mind, just barely open enough to allow the presence to hear his mental voice.

_Who…are you? _He felt a deep sense of sadness emanate the person's mind, but there was also joy and even… longing?

_Do you not remember me, Eragon?_

_I do not know who you are. Though I feel obligated to warn you. Leave and do not return, less you want _him _to find you. _The sorrow in his voice should have been warning enough. Could this person not see the hole she was digging. It was only a matter of time before the King found her and broke her just as the tyrant broke him.

_Eragon, I have just found you. After four months of convincing both the Elven and the Human council, scouting Uru'baen and hoping to fate that I would find a way to save you; to come so far, only to leave you here, would be impossible. No, never again will I let you out of my sight if this is what happens._

Eragon blinked, feeling deeply confused. That voice…it sounded so familiar. The mind, which was obviously female, seemed so incredibly similar to one he had felt in his past though he did not have an inkling as to who she was. He had just remembered his own name, to remember anything else would be too much at this moment, too exhausting. This person… she was one of the reasons he was fighting. He wanted to protect her, but why? Who was she?

_I do not even know you. _

_Yes, you do, Eragon. I know you do. Think… _He could here the desperation in her voice. Did you she really care that deeply about him? Her voice was melodic, like something sweet, something untouchable. Could such beauty exist...? And if it did, could such beauty exist in a _voice_? Who could ever have this affect on him? Who would ever risk so much to save him? Then it all came crashing back. The raven black hair, the shining emerald eyes, the shapely figure, her attitude. Arya.

_Arya!_

_Thank fate you remember me. _Her relief coursed through him like a tidal wave.

_I…yes, I remember. I do not remember much else, but you, I do remember. I have much of the same thing to say to you, Arya. Leave and do not come back. It is too late for me. I am to far gone, to broken. There is little purpose in trying to save someone who cannot be saved._

_But you can be saved. _Arya pleaded with him, trying with fruitless attempts to keep him with her, to keep him hoping.

_What if I don't want to be saved?_

_You don't wa- _he quickly interrupted her with his own words, filled with remorse.

_I am lost, Arya. The only thing that could save me, is death. Even then, I doubt I could ever find peace._

_Eragon…_

_Go._

_Never._

* * *

The moment the sun had set and the moon had risen, the elf was running. _Left._ She was running through the corridors that Jeod had mapped out at her persistance.

She had to keep at it. Too many things depended on her success today. If she failed, all would truly be lost. She had already risked so much coming here. She had deliberately disobeyed her mother and the Varden's leader by pursuing her idea and attempting to rescue her lost friend.

To everyone else, she was saving the Rider for purely dutiful purposes. _Right. _Another turn_. _Though duty was her main reason for rescuing him, she was undoubtedly rescuing him for her own purposes as well. The Rider had, somehow, burrowed himself into her heart. She could not forget him and she would not lie to herself. She admired his selflessness and determination. His morals were impeccable and she felt herself caring about him more than what she had originally intended. He had gotten what he wished, he had a piece of her heart. It was not a piece of epic proportions, but it was a piece nonetheless.

Not that it mattered. Even if she did confess that she held feelings for him beyond the boundaries of friendship, he could never know. She didn't love him or even feel anything close to what he felt for her. _Right. _She could feel his presence get closer with each bounding step.

No, she felt for him in the same way she felt for Faolin. She felt for him as a brother, as a companion, as a person she could trust and confide in. Perhaps there was some ardor there, but no matter. Even if she did feel for him in such a way, it could never be. She was an elf, he a human. She was a Princess, and he a Rider. She too old, and he too young. Now, she was lying to herself.

He was no longer a human and while he may not be an elf, he was about as close to one as you can get. She was a Princess, but she had no desire for the position and times were changing. Would it really be so bad to have a Rider King? Lastly, the age issue. They were both immortal. In a few centuries what would eighty years be? The only true problem she could diverse was what they had becoming a distraction. She could not justify distracting him when bringing peace to Alagaësia was more important than any amount of happiness on their account.

She may have feelings stirring for the Rider, but by no means does that mean she should ignore her duty and the protocol that had been established for her. Besides, just because she had feelings for the Rider that exceeded the bounds of friendship, in no way meant that she loved him, at least not in the way he claimed to love her. Eragon was like her brother. She would be lying if she said that she didn't feel anything for him. In truth, there was ardor, but war was no time to attempt anything that could possibly resemble love.

In any case, her heart has been broken too many times to love another person only to lose them again. She knew that these emotions would be the end of her. This doubt, this _fear..._ it was consuming. No, he cannot know what she felt for him and or exactly how much she felt for him.

Finally, his mind was close enough for her to access it without feeling the backlash of any attacks from him or anyone else guarding him.

_Eragon! _The excitement in her voice was undeniable. She could only pray to whatever higher deities may or may not exist that he did not notice.

Almost immediately, walls of steel encased his mind and she was left reeling at how well his mind was shielded. Even though he was weak, sleep deprived, dehydrated, starved and wounded; he was easily capable of keeping even the most powerful of elven spellcasters out. She had no hope at breaking his mind nor did she want to. With no other options, she waited. She pressed her mind against his softly, her inner most being feather light against his own. She could sense his hesitation and even his fear at such contact but she quickly quelled his worries with that equivalent of a mental embrace. It was only after another moments hesitation that he opened up the first barrier in his mind. It was just barely enough for her to hear him.

_Who…are you?_ His tone was cautious. If she made one false move she would be locked out of the confines of his mind forever, and this rescue mission would be that much more difficult. The question caused her pain of a whole new magnitude. What did they do to him? Eragon would never forget the ones he loved, he would _never _forget her.

_Do you not remember me, Eragon? _She only asked after she had taken a soothing breath. How could he ever understand just how much this hurt her? It was obvious that he was keeping the extent of his damaged mind locked behind barriers that were inaccessible to her. How could he ever comprehend what is was like to lose someone you care about... yet still have them at arms length? He was lost, not dead, but that was possibly even worse.

_I do not know who you are. Though I feel obligated to warn you. Leave and do not return, less you want _him_ to find you. _The thought of leaving him, after she had just found him, made her want to hit something... _hard. _She was touched by how much he cared though she felt her pride flare up at the thought of someone trying to protect her.

_Eragon, I have just found you. After four months of convincing both the Elven and the Human council, scouting Uru'baen and hoping to fate that I would find a way to_ _save you; to come so far, only to leave you here, would be impossible. No, never again will I let you out of my sight if this is what happens. _Her words were spoken with conviction. The voice she always used to end a conversation. The voice she always won with. He was not phased.

_I do not even know you. _She felt her hope deflate.

_Yes, you do, Eragon. I know you do. Think… _She had to remain positive, optimistic. She was almost to his cell and whoever got in her way would have a great price to pay.

She felt him pull back for a moment. She could no longer hear his thoughts, and it worried her immensely.

Did he give up? Was he ignoring her?

_Arya! _She felt relief surge through her. He remembered her, and as long as he could remember her, he was not lost.

_Thank fate you remember me. _

_I…yes, I remember. I do not remember much else, but you, I do remember. I have much of the same thing to say to you, Arya. Leave and do not come back. It is too late for me. I am too far gone, top broken. There is little purpose in trying to save someone who cannot be saved. _His voice was monotone, suggesting he did not care about anything this world had to offer, let alone her.

_But you can be saved. _Her tone, indignant.

_What if I don't want to be saved? _That struck her. Was he truly so destroyed that he didn't care about his own life. Did nothing matter to him anymore? Did she not matter to him anymore? Not believing his words she questioned them.

_You don't wa-_

_I am lost, Arya. The only thing that could save me, is death. Even then, I doubt I could ever find peace. _His voice that was once filled with fire was now filled with ice.

_Eragon…_

_Go._

_Never. _

The sound of a sword being sheathed signaled her arrival.

* * *

**Yo. Wow, I just sounded gangsta;). So this chapter is...ehh? I don't know. It's kind of 3 a.m. right now and I'm in a hotel room trying not to fall asleep on my keyboard. BTW skydiving is AMAZING. Just thought you should know.**

**So, as always, what did you think? I am truly sorry about this chapter, I had written the first half and then stopped and it's really hard to get back into the same thought process and emotional level that I was in when I wrote the first half. There's really no excuse for that, I guess it's just something that comes with experience. I know I promised longer chapters and while this one is longer, I don't think it's as long as your looking for. I will try in the future but this chapter needed to end where it was because I'm jumping to different POVs next chapter and to go from Arya to Nasuada or Murtagh would not sound right to me.**** Oh and I know what Galbatorix's voice sounds like in the book, but this isn't the book. I wanted to make Galby..a little more insane..and evil. Even if it is OOC, I needed to have him a little more...insane for my ideas to work in the end.**

**Thanks for the reviews and a special thanks to 19James92. I had completely forgotten about Saphira...Like seriously all I was focusing on was how I was going to get this story going and what was going to happen and how Eragon was feeling. I probably wouldn't have included her and then I would have a bunch of haters. And thank you to everyone else who reviewed. I could list your names but I'm lazy and sleep deprived. I get all tingly inside when I get emails saying I got reviews and I LOVE it. So as a reward, you can go buy a taco.**


	4. Endure

Mutilation

Pity. That was all the red Rider could feel at this moment. While Galbatorix was away, working on his newest design of torture, he could only feel pity. Guilt for bringing his _brother_ to the hell where he too suffered. Guilt, pity, sorrow. They all meant the same thing to him and they were all emotions swirling around his mind. He could still feel the self loathing he had felt when he dragged his brothers unconscious body into the throne room, presenting it to his master, the King.

* * *

_His footsteps fell heavily upon the stone floor in which he walked up. His heavy steps testimony to his heavy mind. He truly was a monster. How could he capture his own brother, the Varden's last hope, _his _last hope? How could he even live with himself knowing of the treachery he had committed. He was a sorry excuse for a Rider; though Thorn assured him that he was as valiant as any Rider ever was. _

_How could he be a good Rider when he had all but destroyed Alaga__ësia? He had captured the land's last hope and it was only a matter of time before the King destroyed that hope. How could he allow this to happen? How could he fail? The self-loathing he felt at that very moment was enough to cause his dragon distress._

Murtagh. _The use of mental communication shocked him out of his reverie, if only for a moment._

Thorn?

Aye. Stop feeling so sorry for yourself. You are a Rider, I chose _you. _Out of all the people in this desolate world we live in, I chose you. Do not fear for the future, for as long as we are together, we will be safe, we will _endure. Endure… Yes. That is a good word for what they lived in now. A good word to describe their new purpose. To endure._

Yes Thorn, I apologize if my thoughts undermined our bond. _After a brief pause, he continued, his voice hoarse with the magnitude of his emotions. _I feel as though I cannot breath. Not with atrocities we have committed, not when our hands are stained with the blood of our supposed enemies. Enemies that are trying to desperately help us. I cannot shake the feeling of self pity if only because I have condemned all of Alagaësia to a future of suffering, to a never ending pain that none have the strength to escape from. As a Rider, it is my duty to help the land, to protect it and the only thing I have done is aid a great evil in destroying the little piece of serenity that we had before. _He let out the equivalent of a mental sigh._ What do you do when the life you have led is worthless, when you feel so sick of your own actions that you can't bear to acknowledge them if only for the safety of your mind.

_The dragon's response was hesitant, as if he too was trying to convince himself of his answer. _We endure, Murtagh.

_And endure, they did._

* * *

Nasuada sighed heavily. As if the event weren't stressful enough, it would seem that the tyrant had finally stopped toying with them and was now planning on their eradication. Her scouts had reported the sights of an army, marching directly to Dras Leona with the intention of wiping them out. The exact numbers of this army were still unclear, however, as was reported, they were large. Their numbers were estimated to be at least seventy thousand. Even if she were to pull every soldier out of each city they had successfully conquered, have each and every Dwarf healed and ready for battle, and all the Urgals working in unison to prevent the Varden's capture, it was hopeless. They would still be badly outnumbered by the Empire's healthier, better fed, and more powerful soldiers. No matter how she tried, success did not seem to be in the Varden's near future. They were fated for failure.

They needed the connections of the Elven Ambassador to contact the queen and attempt to negotiate an agreement of sorts. They would need an entire Elven army to succeed in the coming events and the best way to contact the Queen was through they Queen's daughter and ambassador, Arya. Much to Nasuada's frustration, Arya, was no where to be seen. She had ventured on the foolish quest to rescue the Varden's Rider. While Eragon was her friend and vassal, they could not risk losing anymore key players in this war and from what she last heard of Arya, she was no more successful in helping Eragon escape from the torture Nasuada was certain he was facing.

To make matters worse, the red Rider seemed to be accompanying the King's envoy. Without a dragon and Rider, they wouldn't be able to defeat the army, let alone another Rider. Without Eragon, all hope was lost. Without Eragon, they would perish.

She smiled grimly, "We will just have to endure."

* * *

The sound of an enraged dragon was the signal that her presence had been discovered. She quickly checked the lock on the door for any magical tampering, and satisfied that it wasn't she quickly broke the hinges of the steel door that encased the young Rider.

The moment she walked through the door, she could smell the scent of death. The smell of burning flesh, metallic blood and sweat permeated the air. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the light of the room which seem to come from the door she had just broken. That was when she saw him.

She had to bite down on a cry when she saw his tortured body. Where there was once tawny skin only existed blood. It flowed down his body like a river that never seemed to end. There seemed to be thousands of cuts on his body, thousands of whip and burn marks. His once bright eyes were no longer filled with fire, but with ice. His gaze had an eerie look, a haunted look. She had once thought him a child for his naivety, his ignorance to just about everything and his childish morality that could only come from a boy who had not yet seen the disasters of war, how wrong she was. This was not the same person she had know four months ago, not the same boy she had come to see as a man.

"Arya…" He looked almost pained speaking her name, as if it hurt to simply move his mouth, and in all honesty, it probably did.

"Hush." Her once smooth walk seemed jerky, _forced, _as though the idea of getting closer, seeing _more _of his wounds, more of his mutilated body, would hurt her as much as they hurt him.

When she was only a foot away, she saw him stiffen. _What did they do to him? _The simple idea of someone being within a few feet of him seemed to send jolts of fear down his spine, it _terrified_ him to no end. She continued moving forward watching as he built up more and more barriers, both in his mind, and in his body language. She pulled his sword out of his sheath having found it in the King's treasury on the way down to the dungeons, unfortunately, neither the last egg or any Eldunari could be found in the treasury.

She did however find Aren, the reserves that resided in the sapphire ring almost completely depleted, and Brisingr. The Beloth of Wise, having been lost in the destruction of the temple in Dras Leona, was no where to be found.

She quickly cut through his chains. Powerful, they may be, but they were no match for a Rider's sword. He crumpled to the ground only to have Arya catch him. The settled him against the wall and began a quick assessment of wounds that needed to be healed for a successful escape. His legs, which seemed to be broken in many different places, was the first thing she healed. She also healed other injuries that she deemed life threatening before hoisting him up and pulling him out of his cell.

She began running, him following closely behind, seeming almost reluctant. She could sense guards beginning to respond to her intrusion and felt a few up ahead. She quickly grabbed Eragon's hand, pulling him into a different corridor, one that seemed empty of soldiers.

The passage that she had turned onto was not one that Jeod had marked, she had no idea what could be ahead. It was likely that she had just led them to their deaths so when she saw a spiraling stair case, she was moderately surprised.

She stopped, contemplating whether or not they should climb the stairs that would either lead to freedom, or more pain. She felt Eragon come to a stop behind her and his shallow breaths concerned her, but they had no choice. They could either climb the stairs that may or may not lead to freedom or the could go back and face the soldiers which meant certain death for Arya, and more torture for Eragon. No, this was a risk worth taking. With that final thought, she latched onto his arm and began tugging him up the stairs feeling him reluctantly follow.

She could tell he was tired, for his movements came slow and his footsteps, heavy. It was only a matter of time before exhaustion settled in and then she would not have the strength, nor the time to save him. The amount of blood he lost would eventually make him faint and then they would be incapable of escape. A burst of adrenaline shot threw her veins, this was it. There was no return now, she had no choice but to keep running, and run they did.

After what felt like eternity, they reached the top of the staircase. To her relief, there were no soldiers anywhere in this area. Perhaps fate was starting to shine down upon them after all. Then again, with her luck, probably not. She was, unfortunately, correct in her contemplations.

After a few minutes of running through a seemingly never ending corridor, she felt the presence of soldiers up ahead, moving at them, and quite quickly as well. With no other options other then to turn around and once more face death, she pushed forward. The soldiers were only a few hundred feet ahead of her now and she wouldn't be able to fight them all, not alone and Eragon fighting with her was _not _an option.

When she thought her luck had run out, when she was almost within eyesight of the soldiers, there was an alcove in the wall. Upon further examination, she realized that within that alcove, a door existed and with a moments hesitation, she rushed in.

* * *

The moment Arya had walked through the door was undoubtedly the most incredible thing he had seen in a very long time. Her stance, that usually exuded confidence seemed to radiate concern and her gaze looked sorrowful. He felt his heart throb at the idea that she was _concerned_ about him. It was a preposterous notion, that his heart rate would increase because she was simply in the same room. Could this get anymore insane?

When she was a foot away, he could not help but stiffen. What if this was Galbatorix trying to trick him. Was he becoming weary of his own methods? Was pain not enough for him? Did he have to torture the Rider further with the idea that he may escape? Not that it mattered anymore, he had lost, he had given up hope and resigned himself to a future of agony.

There was no survival in this bleak world he lived in, only endurance. He would endure, no matter the cost, his morals too great to even consider yielding to the King.

He would endure for the people he loved, the people he could no longer remember.

"Arya…" Her name was spoken with the pain of a tortured man who had lost all but his mind.

"Hush." Her voice seemed alight with strength but also poorly concealed anger. She looked menacing, like she wanted to kill whatever did this to him.

She pulled a sword out of a scabbard and he felt a flash of recognition fly through him. That sword, it glimmered in the light like it was actually alive, like…_ fire. _Suddenly, he knew that sword did not belong to Arya, but to him. He did not know the swords name, but it appeared to be designed for him, for his fighting style and for some reason, he felt the urge to wield the blue blade that belonged to him.

She cut his bindings and when his legs hit the ground, he crumpled. Before he could reach the ground, however, the beautiful elf caught him and leaned him back against the wall that was stained red with his blood. He was still unbelievably stiff, as if preparing for more pain courtesy of her. It wouldn't surprise him if Galbatorix was simply creating this illusion to hurt him mentally. Not that anymore damage could really be done to his mind.

He felt a warm tingle in his legs as she healed the broken bones there and the sensation nearly overwhelmed him. When Galbatorix had gone too far, he would heal Eragon simply because he would die if he did not, but the King's magic was dark. It was foreboding, as if the magic was evil and in truth, it was. His magic came from enslaved dragons that had gone mad, their energy was tainted with years of suffering at the tyrant's hand and the misery that existed in his magic caused him more pain then his wounds did. He could _feel _their suffering through the King's magic and everyday, after every torture session, he prayed he would not be healed if only to avoid the suffering of a mad dragon that appeared to be more miserable then himself.

The elf's magic felt nice, warm and welcoming. He felt oddly safe with her and that was when he knew that this was no illusion. This was the real Arya, the real Elven Princess here to rescue him and though he did not relax at the thought, he inwardly cried out in joy.

The moment his legs were healed she had hoisted him up and tugged him out of his cell and down a maze of corridors. With all the movement, old wounds began to open and the fresh wounds began to bleed faster. He looked like a bloody mess and he was in a great deal of pain, but he kept running, and never wound he stop if it meant escaping the place of doom he had existed in for the past few months.

Arya turned around a corner and seemed almost frustrated. Was he frustrating her? He had only spoken one words since her arrival and he was running just as fast as she was despite the pain that plagued him. That was when they came to the stairwell.

Arya stopped, quickly sifting through options and how they would escape. Without warning she latched onto his arm and began pulling him up the stairwell. His muscles burned and his vision was fringed with specks of red. What was happening?

Arya began running faster if that was possible and his newly healed bones could barely support him as he ran after her, his vision becoming worse and worse as the minutes dragged on. She suddenly stopped and he almost ran into her. She pulled him into a random alcove in the wall and threw open a door. She dove inside tugging him along.

The room was lit quite brilliantly and the walls were so white it seemed like the room was painted in snow. There was nothing in the room besides a pedestal with a blood red cushion and a bright orb like object that was seated upon the cushion.

He felt drawn to the object, it felt… familiar to him. Almost like he was _meant _to find it. He moved closer, faintly hearing Arya's hesitant steps behind him. Once he reached the pedestal he began a more thorough examination. The bright object was a white color that seemed to be ever brighter then the white colored walls. It sparkled, like a gem and was quite large. He heard Arya gasp behind him. Did she know what it was?

His palm, where the gedwëy ignasia resided, began to burn incessantly. His instincts screamed at him to touch the object, to feel the beauty of the gem. There was little he could do and his desire burned strongly and so, he gave in.

* * *

_The world was black. Dark beyond imagination. He was drowning in a sea of darkness with no escape. Though the black did not feel ominous. On the contrary, the black felt _safe. _He felt like he had just stumbled into a haven, a place where both nothing and everything existed. _

"_Hello?" His voice seemed to echo through the darkness. "Is anyone here?"_

_Without warning, the darkness turned into a blinding white light. It hurt to look at the brightness and he searched desperately for an escape. He closed his eyes, but the light shined right on through, he threw his hands over his face but the light poured through every crack. _

"_Stop… Stop… STOP! WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME?"_

Freedom. _A mysterious voice answered._

_His head shot up. He was in the darkness once again. _Freedom? _He questioned using his mind to communicate._

Yes, young one, freedom. I have waited in this dark abyss for years. I have waited for the opportunity to escape, to flee the evil that resides within these walls of darkness. You are the one destined to save me, you are the one destined to save everyone. We are but fate's pawns, our purpose to carry out the duty of what must be done, of what fate orders. Fate has chosen you to save us, and through suffering and misery, you _will_ save us. _The deep voice was spoken with conviction. As if this grand being was certain of Eragon's fate._

_The mind seemed to go on forever. The only time he had ever felt that before was with…Saphira! His bond mate, Saphira. He was a Shur'tugal, a peace keeper. The being he was speaking to, was with no doubt a dragon._

Forgive my forwardness, O Great One, but your seemingly endless mind leads me to believe that you are a dragon. All the dragons were wiped out during the fall and the last three in existence are not as old as you. For further proof of my theory, your mind resides in a large gem the could only be a dragon's Eldunari. I simply wish to know your name if that is acceptable.

Your intellect serves you well young one. I have many names, the one I am most commonly known as is Bid'daum. I would like to answer more of your questions, however, darkness approaches and your time in this place runs short. Soon, we will speak again Eragon Shadeslayer, but until then, I bid you farewell.

_With that, the darkness faded. _

* * *

The Elven Princess was beginning to worry. Eragon had walked over to the gem which she had soon discovered was an Eldunari. He had randomly reached his hand out and rested his palm against the shining orb and had not moved since. They were running out of time and if she could not wake him from his reverie, they would be discovered.

She sent a tendril of her mind out to his only to find nothing. She could not find his mind and while the soldiers had passed this room already, it was only a matter of time before they came back and discovered the missing Rider and his rescuer. This was their only opportunity to escape and she was beginning to lose hope when the Rider's eyes snapped open.

His head turned and his eyes shot to her own emerald ones. "Arya, in case you did nor notice, this is an Eldunari. We need to escape with the dragon that is entombed within the gem, he can help us. I will carry the him, but we need to escape. Now."

Not knowing how to respond, Arya simply nodded and watched as he lifted the orb into his arms. He looked at her and dipped his head and through silent agreement, they sprinted towards the door. She threw it open and ran out, praying that there would be time.

They ran for hours, running into soldiers on occasion and dispatching them quickly. She could tell he was tiring and was surprised he had made it this far without needing to stop or falling unconscious due to fatigue. _Soon, _she thought, _soon you will what freedom tastes like._

* * *

Finally, after months of torture, which felt like years, he would be free. He could sense it, the entrance to the castle was but a few feet away. They would be there in seconds. If it was possible, they ran faster, he shot out past Arya running straight to massive doors that would allow them to exit the castle, his mind ringing one word, _freedom, _when all hell broke loose.

* * *

**So..? Do you guys hate me for just ending it right there. I hope not but I couldn't resist and I didn't feel like putting in a fight scene at the end like that. No, that deserves it's own chapter and it will get it's own chapter. **

**So I have a question for you guys. I know I said I didn't want there to be a lot fluff and I'm still not putting a lot in, I wasn't even sure if there was going to be any ExA moments at all at the beginning. I plan on there being some ExA moments but I don't think it would be major like with Arya openly flirting with him. I can't see that happening with Arya's attitude and her sense of duty. Then I realized that this is my story and I can do anything I want with it. The only thing I want to know is if you guys want Arya and Eragon to get together before the end of the war. I am an ExA fan but I don't like how other stories get really OOC and while I can't imagine them getting together before the end of the war, you guys might be able to. If you guys want, I can get them together before the end. There won't be fluff and there relationship will be slow, regardless, I will make it happen if you desire it.**

**Another thing, I'm always conflicted when it comes to Eragon. I hated how in the books he was always so naive and annoying. After torture I would think he would have matured enough to the point where he becomes more wise and more powerful. Let me be clear, I do not plan on making Eragon all godly and whatnot with amazing powers. I hate fics that give him a ton of power... it doesn't make any sense when you do that. I mean something small, like he's more capable with magic and with a sword and that he's simply more wise. So despite my opinion, I am willing to make changes to that as well. Do you guys want Eragon to have god-like powers? Let me know, I'm open to any suggestions. Thanks for reading and all the reviews. I love to know what you think of my writing. Happy Reading.**


	5. Fire

Just when he thought freedom was in his grasp, it was ripped from him. He should have known that it was too good to be true. He should have realized that Galbatorix would just toy with him _again. _Only this time, more was at stake. This time, he would have Arya too and that could not be aloud, _would _not be allowed. She would not be captured, again. She would not be tortured, _again. _Even if it meant a sacrifice on his behalf, she would not suffer.

This all happened in the span of a second as a massive black dragon crashed down before them, teeth bared and a growl surfacing from deep within his chest. The sound was menacing, but not nearly as menacing as the sound of laughter that came from behind them.

Eragon spun around, his grip upon the shining gem tightening. Under no circumstances would Galbatorix get this dragon, not if his life depended on it. The laughter was accompanied by clapping, which was previously unnoticed due to the draconic growl that seemed to drown out everything besides, the King's own mad howl of laughter.

"Tell me, _pet; _did you honestly think you could escape?" The voice, as usual, grated in Eragon's ears. It was a horrid sound, serpent like in every way. "And you, _Princess; _did you think I would let you escape?" The thought seemed to amuse him as he chuckled. "No. You escaped my grasp once, _Dröttningu. _I will not make the same mistake twice."

He paused, before a wicked smile flashed across his face. "Besides, you will be an excellent _tool _for breaking my favorite toy."

His grief became even more pronounced. Why? Why did he have to suffer through this agony? He longed for the days when he was a simple farm boy, ignorant to the pain of those around him. In no way did he regret the person he had become, the weapon he was forced to be. He didn't regret his actions when they led him to Saphira. She was his savior, his one and only love, his hope, simply _his. _He would endure this torture a thousand times over if simply to save her.

His eyes slid shut and for the first time in a _very _long time, a tear fell from his closed eye. He did not weep or sob, nor did he cry. He allowed himself one tear. A tear that signified all that he had endured during the bloodshed he had encountered, all he had lost and all he would continue to lose. A single tear that held _everything._

Only then did his eyes slam open. His eyes, that were once resigned, now held a trace of what they once looked like. _Determination. _He could not remember the significance of the word anymore, and though his eyes did not shine like they used to, it was there. His eyes that held only ice, that were completely frozen, now seemed to be melting. Perhaps only slightly, but melting nonetheless.

He would _not _yield. He would _not _surrender. He would protect the Elven Princess that had risked so much to save him and the dragon who had faced a torture miniscule to his own. No matter what, they would make it out alive. No matter the cost, they would get out and they would be _safe._

It was only then that he felt the mind of the ancient dragon reach out to his own. _I have been waiting for a glimpse of fire for so long. Your fire, no matter how dim, has lit my own. Let us leave this place of misery. _And with that the grand dragon's mind encompassed his own, bypassing his barriers as if they did not exist in the first place. He felt his lips moving, and magic swirling from deep within his being.

Suddenly, Eragon felt as though he could fight an army of Rider's and come out unscathed and victorious. He felt as though he could lift mountains or stop the flow of the ocean. His power was something to revel in, something to fear. His eyes, once a deep mahogany color seemed to spark with life, something that had not happened in a relatively long time. He felt a cleansing power sweep through him and marveled at the newly found confidence. This was power, this was something that the tyrant would never experience.

"Do you believe me so incompetent, _Your Majesty? _Do you doubt the power of a dragon so much older than you, and Rider who had nothing to lose, but everything to gain?" His voice, was not his own. It was layered, powerful, far more powerful then it ever was before. He chuckled, the sound dark, testimony to the torture both Bid'daum and Eragon had experience. "I promise you, this is not over. We will be back, we will be stronger and we _will _kill you."

His hand reached out, latching onto Arya's wrist. His body completely controlled by the white dragon trapped within a large white gem. Their bodies began to glow with a brilliant light, seemingly a combination of the purest white and a sapphire blue.

"SHRUIKAN, STOP THEM NOW!" A burst of obsidian flame shot out at them, but it was too late. The combined magic of a broken rider and an age old dragon was too great. They were gone, the moment the flames reached them.

* * *

Her very being burned with a fire too hot to bear. It was unbelievably painful, yet at the same time, it was not. The fire she felt burned, but it felt _good, _cleansing. All of the hatred, anger and pain that she had been harboring seemed to fade into the oblivion the fire surrounding her presented. It turned whatever negativities she felt into ash and she felt the weights of a century being lifted off of her shoulders. She felt unbelievably light, like she was floating, and at the same time swimming through an clear ocean on a beautiful day with the sun casting a mesmerizing reflection over the glorious water. The ecstasy of the moment overwhelmed he for a moment, and she had to close her eyes and remind herself who she was, and what she was fighting for. Even with the remembrance of that war she was so distasteful of, she felt light hearted. It was incomprehensible, but true. It was all over in the span of a few seconds, but it could have lasted for all of eternity.

When the bright light finally faded and the power she felt seemed to recede, she opened her eyes and found herself deep within a forest. _Where were they? _She glanced over at her companion only to find him on the ground barely breathing. The observation spurred her into action as she all but sprinted over to him. She fell to her knees and began a quick examination of his wounds.

His energy was almost non-existent. She immediately began to funnel her own energy into him, if only to keep him alive for the next couple of minutes. His wounds were a lot worse then she had originally realized. The cuts on his body were deep, deeper than she thought a person could ever live through. With the little energy she had left, she began to heal his wounds. Starting with the broken bones so that once he awoke, they could begin their trek back to the Varden.

His body was badly broken, it was a miracle he could move at all. Almost the entire left side of his body was broken. The muscles were badly torn and bones shattered as if they were glass. His ribs were broken in many places and it appeared to her that at least three of them were piercing his lung. His left arm was limp and upon further examination, she realized the tendons at the wrist, elbow and shoulder had been severed, preventing movement of any kind in his arm.

She had not the energy to heal even half of his wounds and the bleeding was still too bad. He had lost a great amount of blood and if she didn't stop the bleeding soon, he would die. She couldn't stop the bleeding without cleaning the wound otherwise they would risk a massive infection. She needed to find water and quickly too. They were running out of time. The clock was ticking and Eragon's life was at risk.

She picked him up, as gently as she could, and began running as fast as physically possible, using her advanced elven senses to locate the sound of water. After another couple minutes of running she picked up on the sound of a trickling stream. If it was possible, she began to run even faster. She was known as one of the swiftest elves there were, and this speed she was traveling at was a new record, even for her.

She arrived in mere seconds and walked straight into the stream with no regard to her own clothing and quickly began washing the dirt from his body. When the blood and dirt began to wash away from his body, she noticed how skinny he was. Her anger began take precedence over her concern. He was horribly malnourished, cut, burned, whipped, beat and probably much more. She thought Gil'ead was hell. Gil'ead was heaven compared to this. She would ensure the king's death, no matter the cost. He would die. Such treachery would not last another century or even another decade. It would end, even if it was not by her hand.

Once his wounds had been thoroughly cleaned, Arya hauled him out of the water. Before the wounds began to bleed again, she would need to wrap them. There were no bandages in the area and she could not very well travel to a village or town in the area for two reasons. He would not last long enough and everyone would be looking for them. If she walked into a village she would be immediately spotted and captured.

The Rider was running out of time and if she did not find a way to help him soon, this mission she embarked on would have been for nothing. The sacrifices she made would have been for nothing, the sacrifices _he _made would have been for nothing. He would not die for nothing, not if she had anything to say about it, not if her _life _depended on it.

The emerald eyed beauty began to focus her energy and just as she was about to murmur the words of healing that would seal both of their fate, a foreign mind reached out to her. It's power drew her in with silent promises of safety, the idea of simply being _safe _seemed almost dreamlike to her in every scenario.

_Brave one- _the deep voice held power, regal in its own sense; something any ruler would be deeply jealous of- _Your energy dwindles. If you try and save him, you will both die. Though I used much of my energy in the place of horror, I have enough left to save him. Use my magic, and you will have a strength you have never known before._

She was cautious as she responded. _Who are you? _His answer shocked her into a humble silence.

_Bid'daum. _When no further answer was given, she began to draw from the ancient dragon's reserves. With the energy he provided her, she could heal all of his wounds and even gain a good portion of her own reserves back. The dragon's capabilities in magic far exceeded her own, even when he could not control his.

She began healing his deep wounds, ones that came close to nearly cutting him in half, and soon after began healing whatever broken bones she had missed previously. It was a long and extensive job. She had grossly underestimated the amount of energy it would take to heal the Rider's wounds. Both she and the grand dragon were thoroughly exhausted with there efforts. The elven Princess was left panting as it was her who had cast the spells to heal the tortured Rider. He was still asleep and while he seemed just as restless as before, he seemed more relaxed, more comfortable. She would allow him to sleep, his rest was badly needed. Hers, however, was better put off.

They needed food. Something that would nurse the Rider back to health and restore her energy. She had not the energy to cast wards and so she did not. The elven Princess would just have to trust Eragon and wherever he had sent them.

It did not take long for her to find berries and herbs that were edible. She had quickly deduced that they were in The Spine judging by the mountains. They were not nearly as large as the Beor's, not to mention they had much more foliage than mountains as large as the Beor's could shelter. After that, it was simple to conclude which plants were native to the area and which they could eat without facing ghastly consequences.

With the little energy she had left, she began a light jog back to the place where she left her sleeping companion, only to be horrified by what she saw when she arrived.

* * *

_Darkness. Darkness without any notion of what light may look like. He had only seen it in one place. In hell, where he experienced the equivalent of a thousand years of torture. The only place that could ever be this _dark. _Uru'baen._

"_Tell me _Rider, _where are the elves located?" Another slash accompanied the question. "When do the Varden plan on attacking Uru'baen?" Another burn to add to the collection. "No one is going to save you, _boy, _your just a tool to them." A punch in the gut that was nothing compared to the agonizing squeeze of his heart._

_The sad thing was, that it was the truth. The Varden used him for his power, his position presented huge political power that each and every person around him tried to use to there advantage. No one truly cared about him, they never had. He was just a weapon to them._

_To Roran, all he was, was a burden. It was _his _fault that Garrow was dead and that Carvahall was destroyed. _

_To Nasuada, he was little more then a tool. He was used to the fullest extent in battle and in political situations, he was used to further her leadership by the power her presented her with._

_To Murtagh, he was the long lost brother. It was his fault that Murtagh was captured and his fault that they were enslaved to the black King._

_And to Arya… He was an annoyance, a nobody. Another person she was unfortunate enough to have the duty to protect. An necessary burden to win the war. She didn't like him, let alone love him. The only reason she even dealt with him was because she didn't have a choice. He was a fool for ever thinking they could be together. He was a fool for even trying. How stupid he must look to her. How ashamed he felt. Never again. He would not face this torment. _Nothing _could pain him now. Not after the torment he had faced. He would never hurt again, especially not for _her.

_Whip. Slash. Burn. They all seemed to lose meaning to him. None of it mattered anymore. The pain did not matter any longer. He was numb and for the first time in a very long time, it didn't hurt anymore. Nothing did, if only because he had lost the ability to care._

"Vakna." His eyes slammed open as he shot up, tackling his opponent to the ground. It was only then that he realized he was wearing next to nothing in clothes. He was barely concealed by the breeches he was wearing, which had been badly torn from the King's many forms of amusement. His breathing was deep, unperturbed despite the recent happenings. His own eyes a blank slate against hers. She was breathing somewhat heavily, undoubtedly exhausted from the recent events.

He quickly rolled off of her and pushed himself up, his movements slower then normal, no doubt from the lack of energy. "My apologies, Dröttningu, I had thought you were an enemy of some sort." He reached out his hand, if only because it was polite. He was incredibly apprehensive about being touched now, for obvious reasons.

He was moderately surprised when she took his hand and almost flinched at the unexpected jolt it sent coursing through his body. He quickly pulled her up, "It is of no consequence, Shadeslayer, had I just endured what you did, I would imagine my reaction would have been similar." She paused, seeming slightly hesitant before continuing in a softer voice, "I know Eragon. I know exactly how it feels and I understand how everything in the world just feels so… pointless now. I will not lie, the pain stays with you no matter how you try and forget it… but it gets better with time." She sighed before continuing, sounding much older then she really was. "It feels better when you talk to someone, Eragon." She looked over into his eyes, "I am here for you, Eragon. If you would like to talk about it, I am here."

He blinked, but otherwise remained motionless. This is what she had feared. She was so terrified that he would become emotionless like she had, that he would stop caring like she had. She could see it in his eyes, they were dead. The ice in them could freeze over hell, with the coldness they presented. She could see it. Though he had not betrayed them, he had broken. It was only after seeing this that she made a silent vow to herself. She would bring the life back to the Rider's eyes. She would make the ice melt and the fire return as living proof to his own soul, a smoldering flame that was testimony to who he was. She would bring him back. She would bring the _fire _back_._

* * *

**Hey. Sorry that I took so long guys, but I have a good excuse... well sort of. So I'm still a Junior in High School and while school hasn't started yet, sports have. I play soccer and so everyday from 9-12 and 5-8, I'm at practice. It's not really an excuse and normally, I still wouldn't take this long. It just so happens that during practice last week I tore my ACL. It's not super serious, but it is painful and I can't really walk without collapsing. I had to go to the hospital for an X-ray and then they had to do all this medical shit that I seriously don't understand. It's only my ACL, they act like I broke my neck or something...**

**So because of all the drama going on in my life recently, I have been unable to update as frequently as I normally do. I try to update at least once a week, but sometimes, stupid shit pops up like this. I forced myself to write this chapter tonight for you guys even though I was seriously exhausted and pretty high on pain meds. Be warned, this chapter is had not been revised...like at all and normally I go through it and add a bunch of stuff that will make it sound better. If you guys would like, I can remove this chapter and replace it with a new revised one, but only if enough people hated it. Another thing, I'm going to start looking for a Beta because I seriously despise revising.**

**Only one question today guys. I've been thinking about where this story is going to go and I'm pretty sure I know how it's going to be from now on. There's only one thing I couldn't decide on... So that obviously means I need your opinion. Should Roran die? I don't think so, but I had this really good idea if he does die. I just feel like Roran dying would be too much on Eragon...plus I like Roran... I probably won't kill him, but just wondering what you guys thought. My apologies for being late. Happy reading.**


	6. Accept

_So this was it, _Roran thought rather bleakly. _The Varden will fall and the Empire will strengthen it's reign with two Riders, a mad King and an Enslaved dragon._

The army marching directly towards the Varden was simply massive. It more than doubled the size of their own army and based on the information they had received from the Varden's scouts, it quite possible tripled the size of the Varden's rather pitiful group of elves, dwarves, humans, urgals, and werecats. The army was expected to be there within seven days. They were doomed.

As if this was not bad enough, the red Rider seemed to be accompanying the Empire and assisting in the Varden's eventual downfall. They needed a Rider and a dragon and while they had Saphira, without Eragon, she was little more than the shell of a once magnificent dragon. Roran had done his best to motivate the broken dragoness, but each attempt was met with absolutely nothing. She would not respond to anyone when they spoke to her and she had not eaten or drank in what must have been weeks. She was not fit to fight without her Rider and even if she did fight, who would hold off Murtagh and all his dark magic? Saphira would surely never allow another to ride upon her back as she allowed Eragon to.

Roran sighed, this would not end well. _It all ends in fire._

* * *

Murtagh sighed dejectedly. He had tried everything. _Everything. _No matter how he attempted or how much he tried to change, it was never quite enough. _People never change, _he thought miserably.

Nothing could circumvent the hold Galbatorix had constricted him with. He had done everything he could to change his name, but it was not as easy as Eragon made it out to be. It was true, over time, the power Galbatorix held over him had slowly began to diminish, and while his presence was much more dull than it used to be, it was still there and he had no doubt that Galbatorix would use it against him given the opportunity.

As it was, he was flying over the King's royal army leading a living wall of brainwashed soldiers who believed their sole purpose was to serve their King to the fullest extent. Each soldier was trained to the maximum and each soldier had capabilities that easily usurped the power of the Varden's own poorly trained soldiers. This was the end, he decided, the end to all hope.

Though, he admitted, he may just be able to help the Varden… at least one last time before he surrendered himself to deaths embrace.

* * *

"_If you would like to talk about, I am here." _Her words echoed in his mind like a haunted melody. Each time he heard those words, he wanted to run, as fast as his legs would carry him and as far as he could go. Of course _now, _she would take interest in him. Now, when he wanted _nothing _more than to just disappear.

A few months ago, he might have felt giddy with her offer, but now, all he felt was numb. He imagined that if he knew how to feel anything anymore, he might have felt angry, maybe even a bit disappointed. Of course, it was now of all times that she looked in his direction with something other then impassiveness, of course it was now that she seemed to take interest in him at all. She was a liar, and a hypocrite.

When _he _asked _her _to open up, all he got was more barriers, concealing her already tightly locked emotions. He was accused of being a lovesick child for _comforting _her when she needed it most. Now, of all the things she could ask, she asks him to open up, to allow her to see the damage that was inflicted upon his already wounded conscience. How could he even consider opening up when she would not do the same? Why would he bear his soul to her when she clearly couldn't care less about him? No, it was easier to remain silent, neutral, numb. No one could hurt him if he didn't care.

"Where are we?" His voice gave away no emotion, as it once did. It held the same impassiveness hers did, or at least hers used to.

She visibly flinched at the cold voice he used, suggesting he neither cared for her or her presence. "Somewhere in the Spine… You once traversed here, did you not?" Her voice almost mimicked his own. The only difference was that she could not duplicate the ability to literally care about _nothing_ and it showed in her voice.

"Yes. What of it?" His voice detached.

"You can help us navigate through here to get to the Varden as soon as possible. They need us, quite desperately in fact."

He merely blinked at her, not at all interested in what it was that she was saying. "Then we shall depart momentarily for the Varden," he stood quickly, not showing any signs of the distress and pain that his body had been subject to for the past four months.

"We should not leave just yet. Though we should leave soon, we need rest. Though you appear to be well rested, I truly doubt that you can handle running all the way to the Varden in your current state. As it is, I have expended most of my energy and so had Bid'daum."

"The sooner we leave, the sooner we will be back with the Varden. We can help them prepare for any oncoming attacks Galbatorix may have planned."

"What makes your think he has planned any battles?"

"He just lost the last free Rider of Alagasia and the elven Princess, it would be foolish to think he would not attack the Varden at such a vulnerable moment. We need to leave immediately if we wish to be there in time to save the Varden."

_Young ones, listen to me. The best course of action at this moment would be to lay low and regain your strength. Though Galbatorix will undoubtedly attack the Varden, what use will you be when you are too exhausted to wield a sword? No, stay here, regain your strength and began your journey for the Varden tomorrow. _

Eragon dipped his head in reluctant agreement. The Varden needed them, more so now than ever before. It would be foolish not to answer their calls. More than that, he wanted to see his bond. No, the word want was far too insipid for his purposes. He _needed _to see his beautiful blue sapphire. It was for her that he endured the constant agony that _he _was forced through. He felt that if he waited to see her any longer, he might explode. He inwardly sighed, it was going to be a long journey.

* * *

"_Where are we?" _She couldn't stop the slightly hurt expression from crossing her face before it slid of into nothingness. She quickly attempted to mimic the mask he had constructed around his face and was met with partial success.

She answered his questions mechanically, determined not to allow him to see the extent of the hurt she felt from his silent rejection. She really did try, and she really did care about him. More than he thought she did. She understood his pain and reluctance at sharing his emotions though it did not dull the pain any less. Just because she said she _understood _does not in any way comfort him. Of course it wouldn't, she was foolish to think it would make him feel any better.

She could not help but wonder whether or not his melancholy attitude was directed at just her, or the world as a whole. She deliberately did not read any further into the situation, somewhat fearful of the answer.

_Do not hurt so much, little Princess. He is hurt and he will be for a very long time, words will not change that. _She glanced at him from the corner of her eye, hoping he would not notice. Thankfully he seemed oblivious to just about everything.

_What can I do to make him feel better? I know better than anyone else what he is going through, I went through it myself. Words do help, eventually._

The dragon's disagreement was rather blunt. _It was not words that healed you, Arya, it was the presence of the people around you. It was Eragon, whose constant presence slowly began to heal you. You began to feel once more the happiness that was nonexistent after your own experiences in the dungeons. He doesn't need eloquent words or promises that you may or may not keep, he needs someone to pick him up and carry him when he is too tired to walk, someone who will hold his hand through the good and bad times. Who else could he turn to but you?_

_Roran, or Saphira. _Her response was quick and discouraged further argument. Though it would appear the old dragon had more to say.

_Roran? He is but a child with no experience in moments of true pain, he has lost little and gained much. He would be too ignorant to help. Saphira? They are quite literally one entity, they feel similarly. How could they help each other when they both suffer and are incapable of doing a thing through this pain. No, you are their only option. Comfort him like he has comforted you. Only then, will he begin to heal. _With that his mind receded.

She sighed, aloud this time, not to Eragon's concern, of course. She looked up at him, he looked forlorn. He obviously had an ulterior reason to return to the Varden's facilities as soon as possible. "Saphira."

He looked up, his face a blank slate and his eyes unemotional. "Pardon?"

"You want to return immediately for Saphira, do you not?" Her statement was not even a question. She had no doubt behind his true reasons for returning to the Varden so quickly.

"Do not presume to understand the bond we share. Being apart from ones dragon is comparable to death if only slower. My mind is empty without my bond and I ache to fly through the open air with the Queen of the Skies herself. I know not how long we were separated, only that it was long enough to nearly drive me mad."

Her response was quick, as it was unintentional. "Four months."

"Excuse me?"

"You have been separated from Saphira for four months. I could not rescue you for four months and I apologize for that alone." He voice held regret, and it was only then that she realized the extent of what she went through to save him.

"I-… Thank you, Arya Svit-Kona. I know not whether I would have been able to last much longer under the King's threatening presence. His methods… were more than a little… persuasive." He spoke cautiously, reluctant to let any emotion pour out of him other than gratitude.

She winced slightly when she heard of how very "Persuasive," the King was. "Do not thank me, just kill the King for all the evil deeds he has committed. Kill him for yourself even, just kill him."

His voice was dark, evidence of all he had faced in the passed months. "With pleasure."

* * *

Eragon awoke first the next morning. His nightmares were enough to shatter another man who had faced the same things he had, he, however, remained unfazed. Nothing could hurt him, not anymore.

He stood and began to perform the morning stretches he used to do. Rimgar was an excellent way to ease all the tightness out of his muscles. It felt incredible, to finally stretch his muscles that were once torn, to here the popping of his bones without feeling the pain of them being broken. When he was finished, he quickly located the berries and herbs his companion had located the previous night and filled his stomach with food that was not drugged. That too felt incredible.

The elven Princess was still fast asleep and though they needed to leave relatively soon, it would not terrible to wash himself more thoroughly now and perhaps patch the holes in his breeches. He began to run through the woods feeling something akin to joy, though that could not be. Eragon did not feel anything anymore.

He easily located a stream and stripped down, walking into the water and feeling the refreshing components release the last of his tense muscles. He was in a relatively good mood, something that had not happened in a long time. Even before he had been tortured he had scarcely felt joy. The war had begun to take its toll on him and he could not help but yield to its request.

He glanced down into the water, only to have the previous joy he felt diminish into numbness. His hair, was awkwardly sheered at different lengths around his head and he suddenly wished Galbatorix had not decided to get rid of his excess facial hair. He had dozens of scars lining his cheek bones creating a hideous image in the water. He was disgusted, but above all, he was ashamed.

He should have noticed Murtagh as he snuck into the city. He should have thought through his wards more carefully. Perhaps if he had, he would not be in such a position. He closed his eyes and drew upon the magic that was so familiar to him, surprised to find that he had access to it.

He searched his wrists for the golden bands that had prevented him from using magic in the dungeons only to seem them cracked and utterly destroyed upon his wrists. When Bid'daum took control of his mind, the magic must have been to great. It must have destroyed the magic preventing tools that now hung from his wrists. He pulled them off and quickly reached for his magic once more.

He cast the spell that would remove the scars and cut his hair to an even lengths. His hair that had once reached his soldiers was much shorter now. The wavy locks reached to about his ears and was much darker now with the lack of sunlight.

Upon further examination, he had scars marking his entire body. His back was covered in hundreds of them, though he could not see them. His arms and legs were also badly scarred. There were multiple places were the King had even carved his name into the sorrowful Rider's body.

His ribs were easily visible beneath his skin, testimony to how little he was fed while held in captivity. His eyes were hollow and sunken in as was the rest of him. He was truly a disturbing image now.

He sighed and began to pull himself out of the water. He quickly used magic to fix the holes in his breeches and returned to camp to find a still sleeping Arya.

_Eragon. _Bid'daum's sudden intrusion into his mind almost made him jump.

_Great one, _he greeted.

_We must talk about matters of great importance. So I ask of you to listen without interrupting me. _His voice was stern leaving no room for argument.

_Of course, go ahead. _Eragon spoke softly, giving his affirmation.

_You were trained by Oromis and Glaedr, two of the wisest Riders our order has ever had. Though they trained you in intelligence and many things that you must know if you are a Rider, he did not teach you how to gain the power you will need to end the evil King's reign. Oromis and Glaedr were wise, but they were not the most powerful of our order. I will take it upon myself to complete your training and teach both you and your dragon the things Oromis and Glaedr never could. I will make you into a powerful Rider and Saphira into a powerful dragon that likes of which this world has never seen. Do you except my proposal? _His words were spoke with ferocity, a promise in itself to help the blue Rider achieve greatness.

_Yes. I do, _Ebrithil.

_Good, we will be begin my training the moment you return to the Varden. For now, I have other things of great importance that we must speak of. _He paused before continuing, voice much softer than before. _I understand your reluctance in confiding with someone at the moment, and no, I will not ask you to confide in someone. That is not my place. I simply wish to offer you a piece of advice if you will hear it._

Eragon hesitated, getting the feeling that he may not enjoy what his new master might have to say. He gave the mental equivalent of a sigh before stiffly giving his consent.

_I know, life seems bleak right now. You feel as though you cannot take the risk of letting someone in, that you cannot allow people to see the real you because if they do, then they will have the power to hurt you. My advice, Eragon, is to accept. Accept what have you been through, accept your flaws and strengths and most importunately, accept help when it is offered. A Rider and dragon are stronger together then they are apart, there is a reason for that. They are stronger together because they accepted each others help and each others love. Accept help when it is offered to you, be it from a werecat or a child. Perhaps even help from an elven princess… _The dragon's voice faded and he did not speak for a few moments before he added faintly, _She needs your help just as much as you need hers. _And then he was silent.

He blinked… _accept? _He shook his head, in a rather pitiful attempt to clear it. It would do no good to think on his words now when they did not mean anything to him. He sighed, he needed to wake Arya so that they could begin their trek back to the Varden.

Just as he moved to wake her, a voice spoke our from behind sending thoughts of bewilderment down his spine. "It is good to see you… _brother."_

* * *

**Hey everyone! So I was listening to some music and I got this super inspired feeling so I just started writing and writing and I seriously haven't stopped. Though my sister's horrifying attempts at playing guitar are rather detering...**

**Now let me say one thing, killing Roran was just an idea that I was nearly certain I wasn't going to go through with. I had an idea and it required Roran's death so I felt obligued to ask you guys what you thought. And I agree, Roran was a bigger hero than Eragon ever was. He accomplished so much without the advantage of magic, elves or a dragon. Though Eragon is the main character of the Inheritance Cycle, I feel like CP should have added more depth to Roran and his adventures and what HE had to endure. And also, shit-butt city? I seriously couldn't stop laughing when I read that. That's my new thing now. Just had to let you know. **

**No questions today, as they have been answered by someone whose opinion I can trust. Next chapter should be up relatively soon as it is already done, though in need of revising... Why is it so hard to find a good Beta..? Before I complain anymore, I wanted to thank all who have read and reviewed. What I read and the advice I receive is incredibly helpful and heartwarming. Thanks for all the support and I'm glad you guys like what I've put out so far.**


	7. Brothers

Murtagh sighed, feeling remorseful. The King's army had been dispatched and was now marching towards the Varden. They had been on the move for five days now and were expected to arrive within the next three, possibly two if they kept up at the grueling pace they were at now. Murtagh had tried, rather desperately, to slow the pace of the army, but they would not be deterred. Any holes he poked within their plans and distractions he created meant little to them. Their mission was too great, too _important. _They had been given the task to eradicate the Varden.

_This is the end… to everything, _he thought dejectedly.

_Murtagh, end these thoughts of regret and sorrow. We have tried to save the Varden and we have suffered dearly for it. _His voice held with frustration. He had been consoling Murtagh for days now, trying to pull him out of his depression. _I understand the sacrifices we have made and the sacrifices you still wish to make, but perhaps this is for the best. No one can beat the King. _

The black haired Rider closed his eyes in resignation. _How did it ever get this far? _The question was not directed at Thorn, but rather the world as a whole. _How could fate be so cruel?_

_Hush, Murtagh. I must hunt and I refuse to leave you in such a state. You will be coming with me, even if I have to carry you in my claws to do so._

Murtagh chuckled, the sound foreign to him. _Yes, Thorn. Let us leave the place of horror and doom. Let us fly. _Though, he couldn't help but think that Thorn was wrong. If anyone could defeat the King, it was his brother.

The majestic red dragon swooped low to the grand, trying to find a place to land. His scales reflected the light and shined the deep red over the camp. The constant movement of the great dragon made it appear as if flames of an iridescent ruby had engulfed the company of soldiers. It was truly a sight to behold and a rare one at that.

When Thorn had finally found a place to land, Murtagh was already there and leaping on the dragon's back. _Fly Thorn. _With no further delays, the dragon and Rider ascended into the sky with a wish to never to return to the horrors that existed below.

* * *

The violet eyed girl shivered, great pain was coming. She could feel it, the horrifying sense of foreboding. After Eragon had removed the curse he had unintentionally placed upon her, her abilities to see into the future had diminished to the point where she could only see a few hours before any incident that was bound to occur. The idea that she could feel a pain this distant was concerning. She could not distinguish who would feel this agony and what actions would lead to the inevitable strain of events, but it was coming, and it was deadly.

The most terrifying part was that she was helpless. She would be incapable of ending the torment no matter how she tried. No matter how desperately she looked, she could find no more information of what would cause this affliction. She could not find out who would face this agony or how that person would survive it. The worse thing about this pain, was that it gave no indication of death. There would be no mercy, only horrible, destructive, torturous, pain. The person doomed to face this would not have death in their cards, only an unbearable amount of horror that would make even the bravest man raise their swords against themselves, ending their miserable existence.

Pain was coming and it was coming fast. She sighed, she needed to inform Nasuada of this.

* * *

_Thorn, there is no place to hunt in this area. All the food in this area has been hunted in order to feed our soldiers and there is no wooded area around where you can hunt. What exactly do you expect to eat? _Murtagh questioned, sounding exasperated.

_We can travel to the Spine. If we loop around Dras Leona and take care to leave enough space between us so that we are not spotted, I can hunt there and have us back before the army arrives at the Varden's stronghold. _

Murtagh, contemplating his dragon's proposal, agreed. After all, he definitely did not want to return to the army anytime in the near future. _Very well. Just stay out of sight._

_Of course._

After a few hours of flying, they had finally touched down in the southern end of the Spine. They were far enough to not be seen, but close enough to answer the call of their soldiers should they be needed.

The red dragon gave a rather annoyed growl before demanding that Murtagh use his mind to find suitable prey for the dragon to feast on. Murtagh, somewhat reluctant, but also powerless to the desires of his dragon, agreed.

That was when he stumbled upon two minds that were obviously not animal. Both were strikingly similar to the mind of an elf and were protected by barriers that could not belong to any pathetic human spellcaster. They were probably a pair of elves in search of the blue Rider. He chuckled darkly, Eragon could not be rescued. The very idea seemed ridiculous. _No one escapes the King's grasp._

He sighed, though the elves did not stand a chance at rescuing the tortured blue Rider, he could inform them of his exact whereabouts in the castle. Chances were, they would not believe him. In truth, why should they? He had called the old sage they had revered so greatly. Though it was not truly him in control, it was his blade, and his arm swinging the blade. He was at fault for not being strong enough.

_Thorn, land a few miles from the elves. I believe they are asleep so the should not notice us if we stick to the skies and sneak up on them from behind._

Thorn, somewhat put out at the fact that his hunting would be put on hold, redirected his wings, tipping them downward as they were to land south of the elves. Elven sense were powerful, if they landed North, his scent would be blown in the direction of the elves and they would undoubtedly be discovered. Powerful, he may be, invincible, he was not. He could probably kill two elves, though it would leave him drained of his energy, energy that he would need if he was to go through with his plan.

After Thorn gave a relatively soft landing in a clearing but a few miles from the elves, he began his trek. Galbatorix had cast powerful spells on him, giving him the strength and speed of an elf. He moved through the forest stealthily, not a sound made. He had covered miles, in minutes. Most people thought that Murtagh was prideful due to his boasting behavior on a constant basis. It was all just an act. That was what the tyrant wanted people to believe, that he was a coldhearted killer whose intentions were to kill everything that he found bothersome. He hated it, acting egotistical and arrogant. Though right now, he could not help but feel slightly prideful of the way his body seemed to glide over the forest floor. Those feelings of pride were quickly dampened when he realized he was using borrowed power. A power that was not his own.

_Stop this Murtagh, _the words a mantra in his head, _such negative thoughts will get you nowhere. _

When he had finally arrived at the elven camp, he was thoroughly shocked by what he saw.

His hair stood straight up on the back of his neck. That voice was eerily familiar, though he had difficultly placing it.

The mans face seemed… haunted. Though haunted was a bit too insipid for his purposes. The look on the man's face reminded him distinctly of his own, though it was the man's eyes that truly showed the familiar. Not in color, as his eyes were brown, and this person's were blue. No, rather it was the darkness shown in the depth of those eyes. Eyes that showed that he had been through hell and back, that he had suffered greatly and still lived today. It honestly would not surprise him if this man was his brother.

* * *

"I was not aware that I had a brother, though I suppose I do. I assume you already know me, however, I do not know you. What is your name?" The sentence was spoken with caution. This man seemed familiar, though Eragon could not place why.

"… You do not remember me?" Eragon simply blinked at him, waiting. "Perhaps the King has done worse than I had imagined, brother. Allow me to refresh your memory, I am your brother, Murtagh." The words were spoken slowly, each syllable emphasized as though he was talking to a complete and utter idiot.

"Just because I cannot remember you, does not mean that I am a fool with no education. It is true, I cannot recall a great portion of my memory, but I don't need-"

* * *

_The man with they black hair and blue eyes walked in the room, accompanying _him. _His eyes, filled with pity, self-loathing, and regret._

"_Murtagh, make yourself useful and heat this up," the King spoke handing the man, whose name was apparently Murtagh, a dagger. "Were going to have some fun with out friend today."_

* * *

"_Yes, Eragon. We are brothers. _Our _father was Morzan, our father was a member of the Forsworn." It was only then that he glanced at the sword that he had ripped out of his brothers hand. "His sword should have gone to his eldest son, not his youngest."_

* * *

"_I will not go with you to the Varden. They will not welcome me." His voice held something akin to hatred._

* * *

"_Well, come on then. We have the elf, now we need to race to the Varden and save her." Though his voice sounded reluctant at traveling across the country to save an elf on borrowed time._

* * *

"Murtagh… I remember." He paused for a moment before jolting up, ripping his sword out of the sheath and getting into a fighting stance. "YOU WILL NOT TAKE ME BACK!"

The shout was enough to wake Arya, who shot up with a dagger in one hand a her sword in the other. "You." That one word was all that needed to be said to portray the hatred Arya felt for the red Rider.

"Me," he greeted, before muttering "Slytha." With a thump, Arya slumped over, her weapons falling limp, with her arms, to the ground.

"Arya!" Eragon was torn. He wanted so desperately to sink his blade into the flesh of the red Rider, yet he knew if it came to a battle, he would surely fail. He was still not back to his full strength and with Murtagh here, Thorn could not be far away. He was fighting a losing battle, but he would rather die than go back to the empire.

Murtagh's face became strained. "Peace brother. I am not here to capture you." He grunted, "We must hurry. Galbatorix is attempting to take control of my mind and if he does, I will have no choice but to capture you."

"Murtagh…"

"NO! I will do this one last thing for my family." Murtagh reached into his belt, only to a pull out a ring that looked older than time itself, yet still so beautiful. "Behold, Du Stenr abr Wydra. _The Stone of Fate. _It is the ring of the first Eragon himself. It has energy stored from the time of the first Riders until the Fall in the diamond gem that lays molded in the top. Not even Galbatorix could access this energy due to the fact that only the lead Rider may use it. Vrael is dead, as is Oromis and Glaedr. _You _are the last free dragon Rider, you are the Leader of the Riders. Only you can access this energy, so I beg of you, use it when you need it the most." He spoke urgently before tossing it to Eragon who made the catch easily.

The Ring was a work of art. It was in the shape of dragon with its limbs and tail wrapping around a pocket of air where his finger would be. The wings atop the dragons back were tilted up and outwards, cradling the most beautiful gem that he had ever laid eyes upon. With the swipe of his finger across the oval shaped diamond, he could feel an ocean of energy lapping at the surface. It was overwhelming and he found himself disoriented at the experience.

"Now, Eragon, what I ask of you next is of the utmost importance." He paused, taking a deep breath as Eragon nodded. "Kill me."

The blue Rider's eyes fell wide open. Murtagh, who had sacrificed everything, was here, asking him to end his life. "N-no. I won't do it. Not after you have helped us so much, I cannot."

Murtagh's eyes held an unbelievable amount of sorrow that rivaled his own. "You have no choice, even now, the tyrant's grasp on my mind becomes stronger, and stronger. If you do not, he will force me to take both you, and your elven friend back to the Uru'baen, where you will suffer much worse than what you endured in your stay there previously."

"Murtagh…"

"_NO! _Eragon, his thoughts are beginning to taint my own. I cannot hold on for much longer." His words became progressively darker, filled more with hatred then the kindness he had shown before. "I am nothing more than a slave to him! Useless on all accounts. If you do not end this now, we will _all _fall before the King."

"Murtagh, end this! You are not a slave, you are not a monster! Do not forget the person you were before you were captured."

"You are one to talk, _brother. _Do not forget the person I was? What about you? Do you mean to tell me that you are even remotely the same person you were before you were captured?"

"I have changed, we all have. People change Murtagh, and no matter how we try to stop that change it will eventually happen. Change is inevitable, we simply need to learn to except that. I have changed, but I have never forgotten the reasons I changed. I did not have a choice."

"STOP PLAYING GAMES! People never change, I never changed. This is who I am, who I was, and who I will always be. Wouldn't our father be proud?"

"You are _not _your father. You never have been and you never will be. I do not think any less of you, brother. You have done your best in the situation that was presented to you and that is all we can truly ask. I do not think any less of you and though you have hurt many, time heals all wounds. The hurt you have caused will heal and the scars left will eventually fade into nothingness."

"You are wrong. I am exactly like my father. I look like him, I act like him, hell, I practically am him. You, on the other hand, are nothing like our father. You are the spitting image of our mother, both physically and mentally, you bear none of the curse that I do. I have the bad blood in our family, it was always you who was fortunate, always you who was _pure._"

"You are wrong on both accounts. We do not share a father, only a mother, and you, as I stated earlier are nothing like your father. Yes you look like him, and yes, your actions mimic his own, but there will always be one thing that will distinguish you from him… Your _heart._"

Murtagh's eyes widened, shocked by the statement. "M-my heart?"

Eragon's eyes held a trace of emotion, something that had not been seen since often since the bleak night he was captured. "Yes Murtagh, your heart. It holds none of the malice his once did. No matter the actions that were not your own, no matter the person _he _makes you out to be, you are a good person. You have a good heart."

Murtagh, whose eye's were widened past the point of physical pain became glassy. A film of tears spread over the surface, illuminating his shining blue irises. "H-how? I am still under his control. How do I change my name to free me from this prison?"

Eragon's eyes flickered out, becoming oblivious to his surroundings. Though Murtagh was certain that if he so much as moved the blue Rider would be prepared and ready to kill. "There are many ways Murtagh, and I cannot counsel you in how to change. You have already begun to do so, you have already changed with all the sacrifices you made here, today. With all the sacrifices you made yesterday and all the sacrifices I have no doubt that you will make tomorrow."

The red Rider brought his hands up to clench his head. The pressure had suddenly increased and he could not help but to let out a low groan. "I cannot change enough to free me, at least not so quickly. His power over me is hindering my abilities to think, I will not be able to focus with the intensity of his power over me."

Eragon's gaze seemed almost helpless. He seemed to be contemplating something for a moment before making up his mind. "Allow me to help."

"What? How?"

The brown eyed Rider sighed, "Join minds with me, our combined efforts should hold him off long enough to give you time to change your name."

"No. If we fail then he could force you to join him, this decision is folly."

"Folly, it may be, but I will _not _let my _brother _suffer on the account of a man who has wounded us past the point of recognition. We are family, and family stands by each other. Now let me help, and I swear to you, we will be successful." The blue Rider's voice was no longer the flat voice he had used since he had broken, it was similar to the one he had always ran into battle with. It was not quite the same, as it was much more quiet and it still did not seem to capture the living flame people had come to see him as. Murtagh doubted his voice would ever quite match what it once was, but this was close and he could not help but give in to his brother's demands.

"As you wish," he muttered before opening his mind just enough for Eragon to gain entrance, and together, the two brothers battled the King in a fight for their freedom, in a fight for their lives.

* * *

**Hey. Now before everyone gets all "YOU SAID YOU HAD THIS CHAPTER WAS DONE AND IT ONLY NEEDED TO BE REVISED!" Yes, I'm aware. This chapter was originally... horrible? I was going to revise it and I reread it and all I could think was, "Well done, I have officially created the worst piece of writing in history." So I had to rewrite because I will not submit crap onto this website... Now I know what your thinking, "It would not take that long to rewrite a chapter," and your right. It shouldn't have taken that long, and no I don't have writers block. Quite the opposite actually, I can't stop coming up with ideas for this story and it's frustrating at times because I want to include stuff but then I have to shift the entire storyline around... **

**Now I'm just ranting... back to what I was saying: It turns out I didn't actually tear my ACL. I only stretched it to the point where I couldn't walk for like a week. Now I am back up and playing soccer again which just so happens to mean I practice twice a day, for three hours, everyday except for Sunday. So what do I do in the time between those practices? Work on school projects because I've been procrastinating all summer. Sundays are my only free days so I will try to update every Sunday though I can't really promise anything because as much as you might all disagree with me, I have a life... (I'm coming off as a total bitch right now) ****Anyways, this chapter is one of those "ehhh," chapters. I don't think I did a bad job though I doubt I did a good job. So let me know what you think, I'll have the next chapter by Sunday (I promise because this update was late). **

**Thanks for all your reviews, your guys are AMAZING! And you guys who just read and don't review are cool too (maybe not _as_ cool as the peeps who review but your still cool). **


	8. Loyalty

It was horrible. The never ending pain cascading through his mind, the stabbing sensation never ceasing to exist. Eragon should have been accustomed to the pain by now. It was a constant in his life. When he could count on nothing else to remain, he could look to agony, as it would always be there to torment him.

The presence was dark, darker than the mind of one man. The tyrant must be have been using the enslaved souls of the dragons he had captured and then tortured. It was the only plausible explanation, what else could give the King this much power of such a distance?

Both he and his brother melded their minds together, trying desperately to create a wall of steel, though each time they were almost successful, their attempts were rebuked and their wall crashed down as if it was nonexistent. This was impossible and Eragon began to the weight of his decision in helping his brother. Though, now it was too late to leave. Even if he had the ability to leave Murtagh's mind, he would not. His pride would not condone it.

Even as a broken man, Eragon knew of honor. He knew of respect and loyalty. He understood the risks he had taken by entering Murtagh's mind and though it was through no less pain on his part, it was a decision he was hard-pressed to even consider regretting. No, he would not be abandoning his brother in a time of need. Not when his brother was almost all of what he had left.

With renewed determination, the dark eyed Rider pushed harder and fortified his defenses, feeling Murtagh do much of the same. They would _not _fail. Not when all of Alagaësia depended on this moment.

It was near, she could feel it. The agony she had been feeling, it was coming. It was fast approaching and it was deadly. Pain of this magnitude should never have existed. Was it even possible to feel something this torturous and remain sane? She doubted it.

A tug on the sleeve of Nasuada's dress, and a concerned glance later, the Leader of the Varden was informed of the misfortunes charging straight towards their door. Elva pitied the young woman. Not only did she have to live with the fact that the army marching in their direction was without a doubt going to end the rebellion they had tried so hard safeguard, Nasuada also had to live with the fact that she would be undoubtedly captured and tortured. The King would definitely want to _remind _Nasuada of why he was the supreme ruler of Alagaësia. What truly confused Elva was why the hazel eyed woman did not flee while she had the opportunity. Voicing her question, she did not expect the answer she received.

"Loyalty. How could I abandon these men who have lost more than I? How could I live with myself if I ran away from our problems and let the men under my jurisdiction be victims to something that I myself would not face? I cannot ask them to do something that I myself would not do. And so, though this battle will most likely spell certain death for the Varden and our efforts, I will not abandon my people to the likes of a man more ruthless then his soldiers. They have given me their loyalty and I have given them mine."

The violet eyed girl was moderately surprised. She could feel the determination coming off in waves from the Varden leader, but more than that, she felt the perseverance, the integrity and the loyalty. They had tried, and though their efforts were for naught, fate worked in odd ways. Perhaps, no matter how unlikely, a miracle would occur. Perhaps they would survive in the end. After all, nothing is truly certain.

The Leader of the Varden has struck a cord in Elva's nigh on frozen heart, igniting a flame. A flame that was kindled with her own loyalty to the Varden and the people who served the Varden. If Nasuada was willing to sacrifice everything for the sake of loyalty, then so would she.

-_Murtagh… I cannot… I cannot keep going. He is too strong. _His voice sounding weak even as it reverberated through his mind and into the joined mind of his brother.

_Go, Eragon. I understand, we are not strong enough. Save yourse-_

The mental roar that sounded above all else was deafening. _If you leave your brother, then you are half of the man I thought you were. I took pride in the fact that my new student would be one of power and determination despite the torture you have been through but if I was mistaken, inform me now! _Each word spoken was laced with venom, it was a threat, the dragon was _daring _him to abandon his brother.

_You have so little faith in me Ebrithil. I would never abandon my brother though this spells death for us all. _His own voice defensive.

_Very good. Brother of Eragon, where is your dragon? He should be helping you escape the King's grasp. _

_Thorn is too far away, with the constant pressure in my mind, I cannot contact him. I am too weak and each time I have tried to reach him, the King gets closer and closer to controlling my mind. _

_That is unfortunate, however, today, Fate may play in our favor. _After taking a moment to collect his thoughts, the great white dragon threw out his mind for miles. It seemed as though his mind was a vast ocean and the young Riders were stranded in the middle. _Little red one, your Rider is in danger. You should be here, standing by him as he fights for _your _freedom. _

The red dragon's astonishment was painfully obvious. _Murtagh… He is… fighting the King? _His voice sounding breathless even as it echoed in the older dragon's seemingly never ending mind. _That is not possible, Murtagh has not the strength. Even with me, he is hard-pressed to deny the King anything, but alone he stands no chance. _His tone that once held surprise, now held concern. How great was the price they would pay for being so disobedient.

"_Insubordination is intolerable." _The King's venomous voice filling the crevices of the red dragon's mind. _I will be there as fast as I can fly. _The message floating from Bid'daum's mind into the joined mind of Eragon and Murtagh.

Indeed, perhaps fate would play in their favor.

He couldn't take this much longer, his strength was fading. Each second seemed to last another eternity and the mental battle was treacherous. He found his energy being sapped from him with each moment he defied the King. Thorn would arrive in a minute or so, but he was starting to doubt he would last long enough to see his beloved dragon.

The King's punishment would be severe, and it would more than likely end with him near death. He and Thorn would be separated for who knows how long and they would have to live in the memory that it was _their _actions that led to this pain. More specifically, it was his actions that led to this pain. It was Murtagh's fault that Thorn, whom was only about six months old, would have to succumb to torture that he was not responsible for. He was a pitiful excuse for a Rider.

He was close, so very close to running away. To submitting to the white-hot sword that had been poking holes in his barriers for the past half-hour or so. In truth, he was already running. He had already given up hope and in doing so, he let both his brother and dragon down. He let Alagaësia down because he was too afraid, too _weak _to stand up the darkness that had enslaved so many.

Was it even possible to feel this much self-loathing. Apparently so, as the reality of this situation dawned on him. He was running away, _again. _He had been running for his entire life. First, from the empire, where he ran while the one man who had ever given a damn about him was killed before his very eyes. He ran from the twins when they dragged him to the King's citadel a forced him to swear allegiance after Thorn had hatched for him. He ran from the King as he fought for the right to make his own decisions and live under his own regulations. And now, he was running again, running from the very man who had turned him into the person he was today.

He ran from the man who had decimated the Rider's. Who had enslaved the remaining dragon race and used their power to fuel his own. He ran from the man who had tortured his brother, his dragon, who had forced him to kill the last remaining Rider of the old order. This was the man who had destroyed him, and he was tired. He was so very tired of running away, of stumbling through the darkness when he could find no light. He could no longer live this way. He had finally found the things that would help guide him, he had finally found _his _light. His dragon, his brother, his people. They were his light, they were his anchor. They were once his weakness, but now his strength. If he could not find it in himself to live and fight for his own purposes, then perhaps he could find purpose in fighting for the others who could not.

He felt another burst of determination through the link he shared with Eragon. Yes, he would remain loyal to his brother, to his dragon and to his people. He would fight for them, if only because they fought for him.

The roar of a dragon and an increase in their mental strength signaled the arrival of the magnificent red dragon, otherwise known as Thorn. No words were spoken, no words needed to be spoken to understand what this moment meant. This was a moment of power, it was a testimony of their determination and of their desire to be free. No words could express the power of these emotions, and so they did not even try. The stood, together, tall and proud with their heads held high and a look of absolute determination painted upon their features. They would _not _lose.

They were on more even ground now. Bid'daum, being the oldest dragon Galbatorix had managed to recover and eldunari from held more mental dominance over the other dragon's Galbatorix used to his advantage. They also had the advantage of distance. They were far enough away from the empire that they could block their minds from the King without too much resistance. Of course if they tried to attack the King's mind, the word unsuccessful would be a huge understatement.

_Murtagh, go. Bid'daum will help you finish your attempts in trying to change your name. I believe we can hold him off, at least for a short time. Besides, it should not take too long, as your name has already changed, just not to the point in which it would free you from his control. Go, now, before my strength withers even further. _His mental voice was strained, as he shifted his mind to form a shield around Murtagh's mind. Now, he was taking the brunt of the mental damage and it was already beginning to affect him.

_Eragon…_

_GO! It would be foolish to assume I can hold him off forever and even now I feel myself slipping. Go and make haste. _His mind held nothing but the evidence of the struggle he was no facing. He was generally gratefully for Murtagh's concern, but as of right now, it was far from needed.

He felt Murtagh's mind recede to the point of minimum connection. He was still in Murtagh's mind, as it was the only way he would be able to fight of the King, but now, the connection was dim, almost as if the red Rider was not actually present.

He could feel himself panting with the exertion and his energy was quickly beginning to diminish. Though he still had the help of Bid'daum, the white dragon's main focus was on helping Murtagh change his true name so that they could end this pool of misery. If Murtagh could change enough to the point where the King no longer held any control over him, if there was no longer the constant feeling of being a slave residing in the blue eyed Rider's mind, then it could potentially change Thorn as well and both Rider and Dragon would be free.

Even with his strength and the strength of Thorn and their other dragon companion, it was not enough. Galbatorix managed to shatter Eragon's barriers, and taint his thoughts. Through these dark moments, Eragon still knew of his duty and of his loyalty to his brother. The King had only breached his barriers, not his brothers and if he managed to keep it that way, they could end both Murtagh's suffering and Eragon's.

Though that thought alone did not stop the pain. It was horrible. The King shredded through memories, finding ones of importance, the ones the would define his very existence and focusing solely on them, focusing on causing the most pain possible to the already broken blue Rider. He thought when the twins had searched his mind that he had felt pain. How mistaken was he. He could feel the King's immense satisfaction at the torment he was causing the young Rider. Galbatorix took great pleasure in reexamining the memories of the torture that the Rider endured and Eragon once more found himself becoming lost in the pain. He felt the agony of the enslaved dragons and his own agony beginning to mix.

Each moment of torture he had forgotten or he was simply too scarred to remember was brought back with blinding definition. He could feel the King's joy at causing such pain to the young man, he could feel his own pain as the memories came back and he could feel the King use those memories to his advantage. He increased the pain that the Rider felt, making each dark thought that had crossed Eragon's mind become amplified and more deadly. He pushed the destructive force of the broken dragons on Eragon's shoulders, allowing the weight of their dead thoughts to be carried by a man who was more broken then they were.

If Eragon was broken before, now he was shattered. There was no semblance of peace or determination. As a matter of fact, there was nothing. The only thing he could feel was the seductive power of the darkness calling him back. The King new he had one, he knew that Eragon's _soul _no longer had anything left, that the utterly destroyed boy would never be capable of causing anything other than destruction again.

The empty eyed Rider could feel the King's triumph and as quickly as the King had won, he was gone. The weight in his mind that had pushed him to his knees was no longer existent. He opened his eyes, not knowing he had closed them, and glanced over to Murtagh, who had the biggest grin on his face that Eragon had ever seen.

"I did it! We did it! I am free from the King's oppressive presence, I can help the Varden, I can… I can do _anything!_"

The black haired Rider's enthusiasm was almost contagious, almost. Eragon's expression remain neutral, his eyes devoid of everything.

"Eragon?"

The blue Rider glanced up before whispering, "Loyalty hurts." With that, the young Rider fell to the ground, as everything fell into the oblivion that had become his mind.

"_Eragon…"_

_The brown eyed man opened his eyes to find himself in a meadow, filled with magnificent flowers that seemed to be untouched by the hands of time. _

"_You again?" The Rider's voice was still unbelievably dead. This voice saved his mind once and though he was thankful, he was starting to wish he had lost his mind, as it could not be any worse than what he felt now._

"_Do you know who I am, child?" The voice was mocking, as though it was trying to provoke some emotion into the man who technically could still be considered a boy. No matter, Eragon would not fall to her taunt._

"_I think we both know that I do not know who you are. Though I assume you will tell me?" His voice, still devoid of emotion made the subtle hint he gave seem all the more threatening._

"_All in good time, dear one. For now, I must help you." Her voice held a loving tone, as though she was talking to someone who meant the world to her._

"_Help me? You cannot help a dead man."_

"_Yet you are not dead. Do not forget who your are, dear one, do not forget the people you love and what they mean to you."_

"_I don't love anyone. I am alone, completely and utterly alone." His voice trembling only slightly as he felt a sudden rush of emotion seep through him. _End this, _he muttered mentally, _I don't feel anything anymore.

"_Why are you lying to yourself, Eragon? You love Saphira, you love Murtagh, Arya, Roran and Katrina, and they love you too. They care greatly for you, and do not pretend to not have emotions, dear one. Everyone feels something, for if we did not, life itself would not exist as there would be no children, because there would be no lust or love. There would be no happiness, no love, absolutely nothing._

"_You forget, there would be no war, no hate, life would be better with nothing." Desperately trying to contradict her._

"_Life would not exist if there was nothing." And with that, he voice faded into the oblivion his mind mimicked._

* * *

**Hi there. Well, as promised, here is the next chapter. Oh and sorry about the whole POV confusion at the end of the last chapter, I had gotten home from soccer and was exhausted so it was probably not the best time to write a chapter but I didn't want to keep you guys waiting any longer. Anyways, I fixed it, so if you were confused or simply didn't understand the last chapter, your can go back and reread it. I promise it will make more sense. Thanks for pointing that out guys, I wouldn't have noticed it due to the fact that I rarely go back and read my written chapters... I probably should.. maybe later I'll go and tidy up all of my chapters and fix all of their mistakes.**

**As for the whole Arya passing out business.. I know it sounds OOC, but it was necassary. Plus when I was writing it, I had the idea in my head that with all Arya has done that past four months, she would be exhausted. Especially considering the fact that she used pretty much all of her energy to heal Eragon so I doubt she had enough to fuel her wards without dying. I should have explained that... :\**

**There was only one other thing I wanted to bring up. I don't know if you guys have noticed, but I'm trying to incorporate a lesson into each chapter. Like this chapter was about loyalty whereas chapter six was all about acceptance. I think it's fun and a good way to give people an idea of some of the ideals each character believes in. On top of that, I'm also trying to incorporate the idea of fire into a great many of the chapters. While I was reading the Inheritance Cycle, I came to recognize Eragon as a living flame. When I think of Eragon I think of fire which is symbolic of his personality. I honestly don't know if I'm doing a good job. I'd like to think I am, but I tend to be a little egotistical. As always, let me know what you think.**


	9. Reunited

The sun, filtering through the fabric of the tent, woke him. He sat up with a jolt, brown eyes snapping open and immediately regretting his hasty actions. His head was pounding and everything around him was spinning. He closed his eyes, willing for whatever ailed him to make an exit. He took deep breaths, grateful for the way the air seemed to clear his head and settle his churning stomach.

He sat up again, slower, cautious. Where was he? Fear shot through him, setting his veins on fire. Was he back in Uru'baen? That didn't seem very likely. If he was in Uru'baen, there would not be any sunlight and he most certainly would feel worse then this. So where was he?

Yes! He could remember. He could-

"How are you feeling?"

He almost jumped at the unexpected voice. Immediately chastising himself for his carelessness, he turned to the person that spoke only to find himself thoroughly shocked in the audience that seemed to have gathered in an area as small as the tent he was currently lying in.

"Eragon?" His gaze, which had slipped to the floor, snapped up and he immediately stiffened. The woman who has spoken seemed faintly familiar, but then again, the idea that something was so familiar was beginning to become a common occurrence. It was admittedly ironic. The fact that he could not remember the things he needed to, yet the things he most wanted to forget stayed as a tortuous image, always tormenting him in the back of his mind.

"Yes, I am fine…" He spoke with hesitance, though this woman had made no actions to harm him thus far, a persons true intentions were never fully revealed. When you think you know someone, chances are, they have already taken actions to betray. He never fully recognized the full magnitude at which his thought process had shifted. His mind, once filled with determination, _fire, _was now a rather frozen puddle of morbid thoughts, and shattered dreams.

"Well that's good," another woman spoke, rather obnoxiously, "If he stayed unconscious any long I might have given him a _real _reason to _be _unconscious." Eragon glanced over at her. She too seemed familiar. Perhaps they had met before his capture?

Then with a rush, a great amount of memories came rushing back through his mind, causing his splitting headache to return with an even greater force then before. He swayed slightly, his eyelids drooping, before falling back on the bed with a quiet _thump. _

"Eragon!" Another voice shouted out, sounding rather concerned.

"I-I'm fine." He managed to breathe out before sitting himself up. Looking towards the first speaker, he nodded, " Milady," before he turned and nodded to the other to, "Angela, Arya Svit-Kona."

Each person took a moment to collect their thoughts. The silence was shockingly peaceful and the area in which this particular tent must have been secluded, for there were no outside noises other then the calling of birds and the whisper of the wind. Though he swore he could hear an even swishing sound. Like something forcefully moving the air.

It was only then that Eragon realized why he felt so empty. "Saphira!" The moment he spoke it, a loud roar bellowed across the land for what had to be miles. He bolted off the bed, sprinting as fast as he could to get out of the tent, only to have the three woman jump in front of him and push him back.

They didn't matter to him, nothing mattered but his dragon, his sapphire, _his _Saphira. He had almost gotten free of the woman desperately trying to fend him off when four more arms reached out and restrained him from behind. "Stop it now, cousin. I understand your hastiness, but you are injured."

It took a moment for his mind to register both the words, and the voice who had spoken to him. "Roran…" He went limp, allowing his cousin to drag him back to the cot.

"Saphira… I _need _to see her." His voice, saturated with such longing that it could drive a lesser man insane, trembled slightly, with the magnitude of his desire. Though his voice was shaky, and cracked due to the lack of use, there was something about it that spoke… nothing. It spoke of death. While his voice held desire, his eyes were empty. Though they _knew _he desperately needed to see Saphira, something about him didn't seem to be alive anymore. The flame they usually seemed to have was extinguished, leaving ice in it's wake.

"If you move too much now, Blockhead, you'll only injure yourself further." The herbalist spoke lightly, trying subtly, to lighten the mood, though she failed in the end.

"Saphira." One word and the meaning could be no more clear. This was no request to see the great dragoness, this was a demand. One that left no room for argument, one the would make grown men quiver in their boots. His monotone voice only made the situation seem that much more deadly. It sounded almost like a threat. As in if they didn't yield to what he so blatantly wanted, there would be hell to pay, and in all honesty, there probably would.

It was the Elven Princess who tried next. "Saphira would not want you to overex-"

He was gone before she could even finish her sentence.

* * *

She had waited _four _months for this and now, her suffering was prolonged even further. How was it possible for him to be so close, yet so far? The thought alone was nearly incomprehensible to a being as great as she. She couldn't wait to see him. She had caught a glimpse of his dark wavy hair as he was carried through the Varden and to Angela's tent. Other than that, she hadn't seen her Rider and it was driving her mad.

She rarely ate anymore so it was no surprise she was skinny, but she didn't even look like a dragon at this point. She was thin to the point in which her ribs showed through her scales. Her scales had lost their shine and were now covered in dirt and mud due to her lack of care. Her claws were long and uneven because she never used them anymore. She was literal proof of what would happen to a dragon without their Rider.

Now, she almost regretted allowing herself to fall into this condition. What would Eragon think when he saw he as she was? Would he even recognize her? The very idea was preposterous. How could he not recognize her? It's not like there is any other blue dragon in all of Alagaësia. No, Eragon would recognize her, he would just be disgusted by her. How it hurts to disappoint the ones you love.

She let out a disgusted roar, one similar to the wail she let out the day of her Rider's capture. She couldn't believe herself. How weak she was, the simple flight to her Rider's tent just outside of the city had already exhausted her. Was it even possible to hate herself more than she already did? She had failed her Rider, she had failed her race, and she had failed herself. Would Eragon forgive her for being so weak? Would he forgive her for letting him be captured and then allowing herself to become the shell of a dragon that she was now? She doubted it, though those doubts were erased when she _him _come sprinting out of his tent at full speed.

* * *

No feeling could ever compare to being reunited with your partner-of-heart. Nothing. The moment _his _dragon touched the ground, he was there, arms wrapped around her neck, burying his face into her color bone. _Saphira…_

_Eragon…_

The emotions they were both feeling were impossible. As their minds melded and their memories mixed, the combined sorrow of the past months and the joy at once more being reunited was almost too much. He felt intoxicated but the sheer amount of emotions that flitted through his mind. A great multitude of those emotions were sorrow, longing, pain and the desperate pangs of separation he had never taken the time to notice until now.

No words were spoke. What words could even begin to express what they felt? No, they swam through each and emotion where they once would have drowned. They couldn't drown anymore, not with each other. When one was about to drown, the other would become a root to hang onto. A hand or in this case, claw reaching out and pulling him close, allowing him to feel the cool trickle of his emotions, but never allowing him to drown. From that moment on, he made a vow, one he would do everything in his power to keep. _Never, _under any circumstance, would they be left without each other again. They were stronger together, so why not _stay _together?

They could have spent hours sharing each others experience, time had no constraints on what they felt, but then again, it could have been seconds. All they knew was each other and that was enough to last them the rest of eternity. Like all good things, it came to an end, far sooner than they would have liked it to.

"I thought I said you were too injured to move around like that. You could have reopened your wounds. What then O' Great Dragon Rider?" A menacing growl from Saphira did nothing in silencing the herbalist. "Did you want you Rider to be permanently injured Saphira? It could have happened."

_My Rider is fine, Angela. If he was injured, _I _of all people would know. _Her mental voice was laced with a threat. Eragon could feel her annoyance at the interruption.

"Angela, I thank you for all you have done for me, however, _nothing _will keep me from Saphira. I am not injured physically. The only thing that bothers me right now is a dull ache that will fade in a day or two." Saphira, who was still meshed completely within the confines of his mind was somewhat concerned over the monotone voice he seemed to use when speaking to anyone other than her.

"And what of your mental health, Shadeslayer?" Her knowing voice reverberated throughout his mind.

If his voice was cold before, now it was frozen. "I am both physically and mentally fine. You would do well to remember that." Each syllable came out hard, threatening and practically begged for someone to defy his will so that he could punish them accordingly. It ended the argument with no resistance at all.

"If you would excuse us, we have some very important things to discuss." With that, he gently leaped up onto Saphira's back, cautious of hurting her diminished body. "Fly." It wasn't an order, not even a request, it was an instinct, an escape from the horrors he had been subject to on land. It was freedom. That was the most basic thing he could think of as the wind blew in his hair.

_Freedom… I'm finally free._

* * *

_What happened to Murtagh and Thorn? _Her Rider questioned rather abruptly? She couldn't help the snarl the escaped her lips and the plume of smoke that rose from her snout.

They were currently sitting on a sandy beach on the shores of Leona Lake. Saphira, after hunting enough to feed at least three dragon's, bathed herself the refreshing waters of the lake, elated to see her scales shining again. They had both eaten a decent meal and were now watching the sunset and it's reflection over the clear waters of Leona Lake. It was truly a beautiful sight to behold.

They had both relaxed into the sensation of being one with other and sharing everything. Thoughts, feelings, _everything _was talked about regardless of how important.

_Why would you want information on the traitors? The very monsters that made your torture possible? _She knew that he could sense her rage at his brother. Anyone who saw the seething blue dragoness would have ran because she looked absolutely menacing.

_Saphira… He is my brother. Not to mention that Thorn is the only other free dragon in the world. Perhaps they are not so bad. _His voice sounded sympathetic and it confounded her. How could he be sympathetic to his brother's plight when it was his brother who captured him and subjected him to a torture so horrific that even Arya would have broken under the weight of the agony.

_They are the reason you feel pain. The reason why you can't speak without using an empty voice. They are the reason you were tortured and you mean to tell me that you can so readily forgive them?_

_Forgive them? No. But I can understand them. You don't understand what it's like to have _him _right there Saphira. How even his presence can make you quiver in fear. Murtagh did not have a choice, and I was lucky that I did. What he did for me was the most incredible thing I have ever witnessed even if it did hurt me. How could I forgive him if I never actually blamed him; if it was never actually his fault? _His voice sounded older to Saphira. As if he had aged a million years where it had been only four months.

_I doubt I can ever forgive them for what they have done to you… but perhaps in time, I will forget. Perhaps in time, I can look down upon them and not feel disgust. _She made no move to conceal the contempt that was laced in her voice.

_What happened to them?_

The great blue dragoness gave the mental equivalent of a sigh before sharing her memories of the arrival with her Rider.

* * *

_She had been gazing mournfully into space when the Varden's war horns had sounded. Though she wanted nothing to with anything, much less the Varden, since her Rider had been captured, she felt obligated to help the rebellion as it was something her Rider had so vehemently supported. _

_She doubted she would be much help due to the fact that she only flew when it was absolutely necessary to hunt and even for that it was no extended flight. Why should she feel the freedom that the air offered when her Rider may never again feel such a pleasure?_

_Even so, her cooperation was necessary if she wanted the band of patriots to succeed. With a leap that she would have scoffed at only months before, she was in the air and flying towards the Varden's encampment._

_It was only then that she noticed that there was no army. No, what had come to threaten the Varden was none other then the traitors, the very man who had captured her Rider and the dragon whom belonged to him. Rage that she had never felt the full extent of released. She would kill them, failure was not an option. They would die, even if she too would perish in the process. _

_Volley's of arrow came shooting at the larger red dragon, though all were blocked by powerful wards. She herself was about to unleash her wrath onto the younger dragon when Murtagh held up a hand and spoke in the ancient language. "I am free and I have your Rider. Allow me to land so that you may see him."_

_She hesitated, if only for a moment. Half of her wanted to kill the Rider and dragon before because of the suffering she was put through in missing her Rider, but Eragon had to have faced so much more. He had to live with miles separating them whilst being tortured daily for the loyalty the King desired. Then again, they had her Rider. If this was a plan to lure her back to Uru'Baen, then she would kill them quicker then they could blink._

_She growled her acknowledgement and tilted her wings with minor difficulty to the ground. She sent a quick mental message to Blhödhgarm to relay back to Nasuada before reaching the ground. _

Where is he? _Her mental voice was soaked in venom. _

_Murtagh, quickly dismounting, grabbed her Rider before jumping off his dragon. He was quickly followed by Arya which was indeed a bit of a shock for her. Arya walked up to the red Rider, grasping Eragon before lifting him and running through the crowd to find the herbalist. _

_Saphira sat there, torn. She felt a need beyond compare to go after her Rider and to ensure that he was safe, however she could not simply leave with the red Rider in the area. Even if he did claim to be free and said it in the Ancient Language, he could not be trusted until his mind was searched. She watched him with suspicious eyes as he spoke slowly and calmly to Nasuada._

"_I was with the army that is marching here as we speak when I discovered Eragon and Arya in The Spine. There, Eragon helped me change my true name and fend the King off long enough for me to become a free Rider. You may ask Arya or Eragon when he awakes but now I swear to you, fricai onr eka eddy." (I am your friend) _

_The Varden leader looked over to a member of her Rider's elven guard and soon looked back as the elf nodded there approval of his promise. "Even so," the wise woman spoke, "I cannot simply excuse you from all your past actions. If you wish to prove your loyalty to us, then allow us to capture you. You will be treated fairly until we can prove your words correct."_

_Saphira watched, in mild interest as the blue eyed Rider clenched his jaw. He was obviously displeased at the fact that someone believed they had jurisdiction over their actions after they were freed such a short time ago. "I am not so eager to put myself in such a position," he seemed guarded as they all tensed. "But I will for my brother and for my dragon." With that, he dropped his sword to the ground and stood there both stiffly and submissively. _

"_Very well. Guards!" A group of men came out, binding him with chains before they began to drag him back to a place he could only assume would be the dungeons. _

_He seemed to catch Nasuada's eye before he walked out and spoke quickly before he lost her attention. "If anything dismal happens to Thorn, you _will _regret it." The moment her finished his sentence he was pulled, rather roughly by the guards down the street while Thorn watched sorrowfully. _

_It was only then that she was free to go see her Rider. For the first time in what felt like eternity, Saphira felt alive._

* * *

**And there you have it. First chapter of the three I'm uploading today. I really hope the whole reunion wasn't underplayed. I wanted to make it big and important and I did try, but I honestly don't know if I succeeded. By the time most of you read this, the other chapters will already be up so let me know what you think of both chapter and the other ones. I tried really hard to get into the mindset of the characters I write and while I don't always succeed. I feel like I'm getting better at it. As for all of you people who have waited so diligently for these updates, I want to thank you again. You guys are amazing. Thanks for understanding the incredibly hectic schedule I have and not attempting to murder me in my sleep for the late update. On to the next chapter! **

**Just a heads up, none of these chapter have been proof read, sooo if there are some really bad mistakes, sorry:(**


	10. Change

The sound of footsteps could be heard if one walked by his cell. The repetitive pacing almost as loud as his thoughts if anyone could hear them. Of course, the moment he was free from the constant hell he had lived with for a year, he was pushed right back into it. He supposed it could be worse. He could be dragging Eragon back to Galbatorix with Saphira and then rushing back to execute there plan to destroy the Varden. He could still be a slave, forced to do the bidding of his master. The thoughts were meant to comfort him though they did little. He still felt like a caged animal in this tiny cell. Especially when he had no idea what was happening to Thorn.

It was then that he heard more footsteps coming from down the hall. Three pair, if he was correct. He may not have elven senses, but Galbatorix had altered him to the point where he was just as strong, fast and deadly as one. He had a feeling his prediction was accurate and it was proven true the moment his brother walked through the door, followed by the Leader of the Varden and the elven ambassador.

"Murtagh, I understand your predicament and I came here to free you… or to at least try to free you based on what your answer is." It was Eragon who spoke, but the dead voice seemed to send shivers down his spine. Galbatorix did a good job in breaking his younger brother.

"Answer?" He already had an inkling as to what they would ask and he was already certain of both his and Thorn's answer.

"Yes." This time, it was Nasuada who spoke. "Will you join us?"

He pursed his lips. "I thought I was too untrustworthy, that you could not allow me freedom based on my past actions… Actions that I had no other choice then to complete." The red Rider made no effort to hide the anger in the tone.

"That she did, Murtagh." Once more, it was Eragon who was speaking. "You must understand, we cannot simply allow you to join us with your unfortunate past. I understand, better than anyone, that the horrible deeds you committed were not your own, however most of the Varden is ignorant to that. They consider you an enemy, a traitor on all accounts and we need to give them reason to believe that it is not so."

After a moment to collect his thoughts, Eragon continued. "Your deeds, in time can and will be forgotten as long as you make decisions that benefit that Varden and help us. Your good deeds will outshine your bad ones and eventually you will be forgiven. A battle is on the horizon and we need all the help we can get. Saphira is not in a great condition and will not be at her strongest, we need Thorn to help us. If you and Thorn fight in this battle and save the lives of our soldiers, you will gain much regard from our men. It is the perfect solution."

"I don't believe that you will just let me out of here without ensuring that I am on your side. You wish for an oath and a passage into my mind, do you not?" It was not a question, but rather an accusation.

Eragon answered with a sigh before quickly answering, "Unfortunately, that is correct brother. I ask that you allow me, and only me, to view your mind."

"And that is all? I only have to let you into my mind and I am free?" He sounded almost hopeful.

"Not exactly." At Murtagh's displeased face he continued cautiously. "I am not asking for you to swear loyalty to the Varden, I will not rope you into more politics then you will already be subjected to. You are a Rider and I am the Leader of the Riders. I simply ask for your oath of loyalty to the Riders and that you will abide by our laws. Only then will I set you free, brother."

Murtagh, taking a moment to think, quickly, sifted through his options. He could wait down here, and potentially never see his dragon again, or he could allow his mind to be exposed to his brother, whom had already ventured inside of his mind and played the most significant role in freeing him and swear fealty to the man who would most likely never make him do anything he didn't want to. It was a rather obvious decision.

"Very well." Two words and then his mind was open for examination.

He felt a tendril of Eragon's mind reach out to his own and felt as his brother began to gently poke through memories. He lingered at ones that were more important and reviewed what happened in the moments that changed his true name. Eragon knew, exactly what it was that changed his true name. Desire.

What had changed his true name so much was the overwhelming desire, not just to escape the hell Galbatorix forced him into, but from his desire to become like his brother. Murtagh wanted so desperately to be the self-sacrificing person Murtagh was. He wanted so badly to be someone would was utterly selfless and would put others before himself. He had spent his entire life taking and being a horrible person, he had become a mirror image of his father and when he had finally recognized that, it had changed him, just not enough to free him. It was only after Murtagh had recognized the fact that he didn't want to be that way anymore, that he didn't want to be the man his father was, that his name changed. He wanted to be like Eragon, he wanted to be someone that he could be proud of. It changed him so completely, that the King would have no semblance of recognition over him anymore. He wasn't the killer he once was and he was beyond determined to show the world that he wasn't his father.

* * *

After seeing this, Eragon pulled out of his mind, seemingly taken back by the magnitude of his brothers change. It was as if he wasn't even the same person. It was hard to believe that so much change happened so quickly.

_It didn't happen quickly, little one. This change in Murtagh has been happening for a while now, it was only recently that he recognized it. _She paused for a moment before speaking again. _Though I am still angered by him capturing you, I suppose in time, I can forgive him._

Eragon, becoming both oddly amused and slightly jealous spoke his next words mockingly. _Are you with Thorn?_

He had already anticipated her indignant response. _Quiet you. This is the first time I have been around another of my race that is even remotely close to my age and knows the same horrors as I do._

He chuckled mentally, _I was merely jesting Saphira. I am truly happy that there is another dragon in which you may spend your time with._

She made the equivalent of a scoff. _And here I thought that I would never hear you jest again. You are so cold these days._

His response came serious and deadly calm with no hint to his emotions though she knew better. _Only to you would I ever consider being this open with, Saphira._

She sighed before responding. _In time, little one, you may just learn to trust freely again._

"Do you swear loyalty to the Riders and promise to uphold our laws for the safety of the land? Do you swear that you will cause the Varden no harm and should we need you, you will answer to my calls? Do you swear loyalty to me as Leader of the Riders, Shur'tugal?

"Vel eïnradhin iet ai Shur'tugal." (Upon my word as a Rider)

"Then I proclaim you, Murtagh Morzansson, a free Rider and welcome you to our order. I will have someone set up the proper accommodations for you and perhaps you can indulge my companions and I in any information you may have on the Empire." It was not truly a suggestion as his brother made it out to be and Murtagh was surprised that Eragon was being so formal, but he figured that it was due to the audience they had with them.

"I would like nothing more than to inform you on the Empires position and other matters of importance, however I have not eaten in quite some time and I have not seen nor communicated with my dragon in some time either. Would it be agreeable for me to have a quick meal and speak with my dragon before I meet with you and share whatever information I may have?"

Eragon nodded, though his tone seemed disapproving. "Very well, these terms are agreeable. There will be a war council held this evening in preparation for the coming battle. A runner will be sent to you so that you and will take you to the meeting hall when it is time. A meal will be delivered to the room you are given." He paused for a moment and Murtagh watched as his eyes flickered out of focus. "Saphira has just informed that your room is ready, I will accompany you to the location."

He turned to Nasuada, "By your leave, milady." She nodded and with the wave of her hand, Eragon had left the room closely followed by Murtagh.

* * *

"Does he… seem alright to you, Arya?" The person whom the question was directed at, looked up into the concerned face of the Varden's Leader.

"I'm sorry?" Her response was unemotional, similar in ways to Eragon's but not nearly as dead as his.

"He doesn't seem like the same person who left us. I understand that with all the torture he must have gone through and the emotional turmoil of being in such a state, but even so… It's almost as if he's died and now just… exists." Her eyes were narrowed, confusion on her visage.

"Milady, forgive me if I am out of line, however, Eragon has just experience months of torture from the King's hand. The very King whom destroyed the Rider's and the reason for this rebellion. It would be impossible for Eragon to come back from such a situation unscathed and I believe your lack of care on this matter is rather unimpressive considering he _is _your vassal." Her voice, though still impassive, held hints of anger. She could not believe that Nasuada would be so completely ignorant of Eragon's position. It was as if she didn't care at all.

"I didn't mean to imply that I didn't care for him, though he is my vassal he is also a close friend and I understand the predicament he just walked away from is not something I could every truly begin to comprehend, however even so, you must admit… this change in him is disconcerting."

Arya sighed. In truth, she did understand why Nasuada was so concerned. Eragon, the young man they had all come to believe in was now a shadow of his formal self. He didn't even look the person he used to be. He was paler, his hair shorted and his eyes colder. It was almost as if they were two different people and she wouldn't be surprised to find out that his true name changed in the process of this horrible ordeal. It was simple logic that Eragon wouldn't be the same after suffering torture that was undoubtedly worse than her own and longer than her own and she barely survived herself. She couldn't even begin to imagine what Eragon felt.

"We can only count on him to heal at his own pace and while he will never be the Eragon we used to know, even if he heals, we can learn to like the person he is now. It's not as if there are any better options." And then she too swept out of the room, leaving the Mahogany skinned leader, standing in a cold, dark cell in the dungeons, under Dras-Leona.

* * *

They had just arrived at the war council and already, everyone was up in arms about Murtagh's presence.

"The _traitor _cannot hear of our plans."

"Why should we let the man who murdered our kin sit here at a table with us as if he was our equal?"

"He's just a spy! He's waiting for us to disclose important information so that he may report it back to the tyrant!"

This went on for nearly half an hour before Eragon finally silenced everyone. "ENOUGH!"

Each arguing person was now looking, rather surprised, down at Eragon and each person who was standing was now embarrassedly taking a seat. "Murtagh's mind has been thoroughly checked by myself and both Lady Nasuada and Lady Arya can attest to that. He has come here to inform us of the plans the King has for us and any information he deems necessary to share. He has also sworn an oath to me in the ancient language." He paused, gazing out over the room allowing the power of his words to wrap itself in there minds.

"Murtagh is one of our assets now and any disrespect towards him will be the same as disrespecting me as I am the Leader of the Riders and his loyalty is to me. Not only that, but he is going to be fighting beside us tomorrow, helping _our _rebellion and reducing the number of casualties we will face as a result. I suggest you treat him with the respect he deserves or you will be dealing with me."

When no one spoke out against him he gestured to Murtagh who took a step forward, seemingly unafraid of the fact that nearly every person in the room had the urge to kill him in this moment. "There is more time to inform you on other things in the future, however a battle is on the horizon and unless you want the Varden to fail, you must create a battle plan that will counter the Empires."

He walked over to the table, grabbing a map along the way before pointing at Dras-Leona. "The last I was aware of, the army was right here," he pointed to a spot on the map, "however they should be relatively close and will most likely arrive in the next day or so."

"Yes," it was Nasuada who spoke. "Our scouts have already informed us of this."

Murtagh nodded, "I had suspected as much. What you are not aware of is that there are another three battalions who are across the lake and is undoubtedly making there way here as we speak. They plan on trapping you in the city and killing every Varden supporter here."

They seem shocked, "Why have we not noticed this? Surely our scouts would have reported a such a large amount of men?"

"Your scouts wouldn't have seen them. Galbatorix has put a decent amount of magicians into this project as he planned to finally end the rebellion. He supplied these magicians with enough energy to turn to the army and their boats invisible in the hopes of catching you off guard." His voice was utterly calm, despite the severity of the situation.

Nasuada seemed deeply concerned, "We will lose many men."

"Aye, but Lord Eragon has already come up with a way to counter this problem." He stepped backwards, allowing the Leader of the Riders to step forward and demand the attention that was rightfully his.

Eragon, who was still stoic and seemed to be feeling nothing began to speak in his now normal dead voice, "You have all been made aware of the situation and just how serious this battle will be. After careful consideration, I believe I have found the best course of action that will end with the least amount of casualties and the Varden's victory."

"A majority of the Empire's army is marching us straight on, determined to distract us until the second army arrives at our rear. However the second regiment will be filled with significantly less soldiers and due to the fact that Saphira has not fully recovered he strength, we believe we should face this army while Murtagh and Thorn face the other."

Protests rang wild across the room. They could not believe the Lead Rider and the reason they had made it this far already, was supporting Murtagh and Thorn to take on a large army, without Eragon and Saphira.

"SILENCE!" When he had there attention, he began again. "I understand your reluctance in letting Murtagh take part in such a large battle, but that truth of this matter is that Saphira cannot do this alone. She is physically too weak to fight in such a large battle alone. Also, Murtagh and Thorn's presence will confuse the other army as they expect Murtagh and Thorn to fight for them. And do not forget, they will also be fighting with us when we challenge the King at Uru'baen, he needs to gain the trust of the our army now so that mistakes are not made in the final battle. What better way to gain positive recognition then to save the lives of our men?"

"There is no reason why Murtagh and Thorn should not fight with us in this battle. Without them, we will lose many more lives and victory would not be something we could easily come by. Besides, they will not be fighting alone for the whole battle. When Saphira and I finish destroying the army at our backs, then we will join them at the front. Are we understood?"

After receiving many reluctant approvals, Eragon began jumping into tactics, where they should place their men and where which battalions would go. Throughout all of this, Eragon's heart felt heavy. He had just escaped hell and already he was being forced into bloodshed. A different kind of hell that he wanted no part of. It hurt, but he had no choice. For the people he once cared about, for his _dragon _he would fight.

* * *

**Ah. Chapter two of my three chapter Sunday! The next chapter will contain the battle.**

**Just a little forewarning, I have never written a battle scene before so if it's terrible, tell me. I plan on writing more battles in this fic (obviously the final battle) and future fics as well and its really important to me that I get at least somewhat good at this. This chapter, as you can probably tell, was just a filler. Sorry about that, but every fic has them and its hard to set up a battle without one. Or at least for me it is. I feel like I'm rambling… Well, if I haven't scared you off yet, feel free to read the last chapter and if you just skipped over this…well your already reading the last chapter… either way I win :D.**


	11. Bloodlust

Any moment now, and they would initiate their plan. He and Saphira would fly out before the battle at the Eastern Gates began and using magic to locate their targets, they would quickly destroy the boats filled with their opponents and fly quickly back to the battle to provide aid to Murtagh and Thorn.

As simple as the plan seemed, it was not so easily executed. They were hovering over the lake at an altitude where no human could spot them, though it did help that the sun had set some time ago and moon was hidden by the clouds.

They had attempted use Saphira's advanced sight, which included heat censors, to no avail and each spell Eragon has cast was reflected by an assortment of wards. He was wasting time and energy. It wouldn't be long before the boats reached the shore and if he failed in his mission, the Varden would fall and they would once again be imprisoned. He would never allow that to happen again.

With a last ditch effort, one he seriously doubted would work, he spoke one word that take a massive amount of energy from his reserves. "Deloi." (earth)

The spell's purpose was to send a fine layer of dirt over a large section of the lake where both he and Saphira suspected the small army would be. Thank fate, their predictions were correct. A layer of dirt covered the once invisible boats making it a simple task to find and destroy them. With low reserves, Eragon was reluctant to use magic, as it would only exhaust him further and so Saphira, whom was nearly invisible in the darkness of the night dove silently towards the point, letting out a large breath of fire only to shoot back up into the air when a volley of airs came flying there way.

They were rather dismayed when they noticed that Saphira's flames had done nothing. The boats must have been warded from fire. They had no other assets and now, with there position given away and volleys of arrows flying at them, Eragon felt hopeless. His energy was dwindling from the sea of arrows flying towards them. There was nothing else they could do.

_So quick to lose hope, young ones. That is not a good trait._

He shot up, mind reaching out to find the presence only to discover it was Bid'daum who spoke. _Master…_

_Aye. Will you permit my help in this endeavor of yours, hatchling?_

He nodded, with no distinct clue as to what the great dragon had in mind. It was only then that he felt the ancient being take control of both him, and Saphira, _Today, _his ancient voice held an unbelievable amount of power, _I will show you how to really fight as dragon and Rider. I will show you a taste of what you will be capable of after I train you._

What happened next was truly incredible.

* * *

They were waiting for the signal from Eragon that would let them know he was successful in engaging the opponents from the West. The red Rider only hoped that he was able to complete the task in time. The army from the East was not yet in human eyesight, but they were in the eyesight of a dragon and they would be arriving in the next hour or so.

They had announced to the Varden that all the deeds Murtagh had committed he was forced to do by the King and though many still hated them, none openly denied the fact that their chances at winning this war was no much better then before. He looked back towards the West.

"You better not mess this up Eragon."

* * *

The elven princess was patiently waiting for the moment when they would attack the army. She would never admit it, but she was worried about Eragon, quite a bit actually. He never had a real opportunity to rest after his ordeal in Uru'baen and she feared for his mental health.

Physically, the blue Rider was not in a healthy state either. He was emaciated, and weak from the lack of time he had to regain energy. Because of this, his magical abilities would be hindered and he would not be able to fight as long as everyone else. It wasn't fair to him to be pushed into a battle after he had just escaped hell. Little could be done, without him, the outcome of this battle could easily end in the Empires favor and so, a sacrifice and Eragon's part was made.

She had been looking for before the battle in hopes of speaking to him and perhaps gauging the person he had become. It was hard to tell during the war council because of how formal he had been. If he had allowed what he was feeling to show on his face then, it would have been considered a weakness and the council would have used that against him. No, during the war council, he had shown complete and utter composure, demanding the attention of the council as if he was there King.

Still, she was concerned. It had been more then two hours since Eragon had gone out on his mission to destroy the reinforcements and they had received no signal that he was successful. Had something gone wrong? Turning her head in the direction of Uru'baen and the army marching towards them, she estimated that they had around half an hour before they reached the Varden. Murtagh and Thorn had flown to the dragon hold in the city and were currently waiting for the battle to begin. They planned to make there presence know, once the fighting had begun so as to confuse the soldiers on the opposite side.

Once again turning in the direction Eragon was in she silently hoped that he would be safe. She could not bare to lose another person who had become close to her. Though she hated to admit it, Eragon was her closest friend.

* * *

It was amazing. Nothing could compare to the feeling that both dragon and Rider were currently experiencing. They had been one before, but never like this. They had never felt so alive and full of energy, they had never felt invincible.

Together, as one being, both dragon and Rider roared into the sky creating a deadly harmony that was louder than the largest clap of thunder. _This was power._

As another volley of arrows flew towards them, they didn't need wards. They tucked in their wings and dive bombed into the water. Swimming through the murky waters that had looked so beautiful but a day before, Saphira rammed into a ship turning it over and leaving claw marks where wood once was. Nothing could compare to there power.

Soon they were spiraling out of the water, the water spinning around them and spiraling up, creating the image of a hurricane. The great dragon opened her wings and let out a mighty roar as the water splashed over the land. No one had ever before seen an image so beautiful yet so deadly. They flew, close to the water, and began breathing fire creating steam and preventing any aboard the ship from catching sight of them.

There were four boats left, which meant they still had work to do. _My turn. _They thought together, though it was obviously one person that made the comment.

No one aboard the ship heard the soft thud that signified that something, or rather someone, was aboard. No body ever imagined the idea of the great Shadeslayer finding passage onto their ship, and no one ever imagined the thirst for blood he had on this night. The need for revenge against the King for what he had done, the need to kill was immense and he could only give into the demands and sate his thirst.

He moved silently, sticking to the shadows and located each soldier on guard. He made quick work of them, aiming his swords in deadly arcs that killed silently and prevented anyone from becoming alarmed. First, he had to rid the ship of magicians. And so, with his mind, he quickly located the minds that were blocked and seemed to be exuding energy. Together, he and Saphira, still one, overwhelmed the minds quickly and easily, as if there were never any barriers there in the first place.

The deaths he had caused did not at all satisfy him. They were too quick, too painless and there were not enough. He needed to kill more and make them suffer longer. It couldn't even be considered a want anymore.

Faintly, in the back of his mind, he was concerned for his mental health, but no matter, justice would be delivered no matter how gruesome it was. He didn't have time to make them suffer, so he would simply have to kill more to make up for the lost.

Throwing caution to the wind, he ran out into the open, completely abandoning himself in the art of killing. He felt into a pattern of stab, parry, strike, feint, parry, strike, stab, block. And in a matter of minutes, everyone aboard the ship was dead.

By mutual agreement, he ran towards the edge of the ship and jumped off, watching with baited breath as Saphira flew beneath him, catching him and dropping him off at the next ship. In unison, they destroyed each and every ship that dared to challenge them. They were done just before they predicted the fighting on the East side of the city would begin.

Reaching out with the tendril of his mind, he contacted Blödhgarm, letting him know that he had finished in his task of destroying the army from the West and was on his way to the dragon hold where he would join the battle just before Murtagh and Thorn would.

* * *

The battle had begun. They had received the an affirmation from Eragon only moments before stating that the warriors of the West, were no more. Now, on the battle field, charging with the Urgals at the head of the rebellion, they were invincible.

Arya let no thought rule her mind save for what ever was necessary to actually fight. She couldn't afford to think of others in a time such as this. The Varden's future depended on this battle, _Alagaësia's _future depended on this. They could not fail and so they wouldn't.

With a fierce war cry, she jumped into the fray once more.

"Brother." Murtagh turned to greet his younger brother whom he had not noticed enter the dragon hold.

"Brother." He muttered in return.

"You seem to be in a dismal mood." Murtagh looked over half expecting to see a raised eyebrow and an amused expression. He was rather disappointed at the lack of emotion his brother allowed to show.

"Forgive me if I do not find unnecessary bloodshed to be rather distasteful." His voice suggested that he was disgusted by the battle taking place below them.

"Unnecessary? I think not. If we did not fight them here and now, who would? If we did not fight the King, then we would be enslaved. I would rather kill then be killed." Murtagh was quickly becoming sick of his brother's monotone voice.

"How can you say such a thing. Killing does not bother you?" He was beyond horrified that his brother could talk about killing as if it didn't bother him at all.

"Not when I know I have justified reason to do so." He looked towards Murtagh, his eyes, though dead, still forcing him to consider his words. "I no longer fight for freedom or to avenge the fallen Riders, I no longer fight for Alagaësia or the people in it. I fight to live. It's survival of the fittest out here and I will not allow harm to befall myself or my dragon. Give killing a purpose and ask yourself is the sacrifice you're making in killing these people worth it. If your answer is yes, then killing should no longer bother you. If your answer is no, then perhaps you should have died long ago and by some mystery of fate, you are alive today. It honestly doesn't matter who you are, if you give it a purpose, it will no longer haunt you."

They didn't speak after that.

* * *

The carnage below them was quickly falling the Empire's side. If one of the Rider's did not make themselves known, the would lose the battle and so without a moments hesitation, Eragon dove out of the massive doorway meant for a dragon and swung himself into Saphira's saddle as they took off into the battle.

Once more, they became one and once more, they destroyed everything that got in there way. Eragon remembered dismounting and fighting on the ground along side many of the Varden's soldiers and with each kill, his vision became more and more red. His muscles ached, his head pounded and his heart was beating at a rate that couldn't be healthy, but he would not stop. No, he couldn't stop, not until they were victorious, not until every single one of the enemies troops were destroyed. Only then would he be satisfied.

He dimly remembers Murtagh coming to join the battle and the cheer that came from the Empire's army which quickly turned into screams of horror as Murtagh made an example out of any who dared to defy the Varden. At one point they had been back to back, fighting as equals, as brothers, as _family. _Another time, they were in the air with their dragons who spun around creating a deadly dance that neither felt pressed to stop.

The battle went well on into the morning and though they lost many, the Empire lost so many more that it was nearly laughable. This was comparable to loss the tyrant had faced when he lost half of his army in the Spine to the Urgals. He was going to be quite angered with at this loss. That though only made Eragon more pleased with himself.

When the battle had finally ended, both Eragon and Saphira flew to the lake to see if it looked as beautiful as it did before the battle, they were both disappointed to find that it did not and so, Saphira took it upon herself to find somewhere peaceful for them to relax. It took about an hour, but they managed to find a small meadow filled with thousands of flowers. It's beauty was comparable to that of the lake at sunset and he found himself relaxing beyond what he normally could.

It was only then that the actions of the battle came back to him. He felt horrible. He had killed so mercilessly that it sickened him. Saphira was equally mortified, not by her actions, but by her enjoyment of them. She _liked _killing all those people, she _wanted _the battle to keep going.

Eragon feeling the things that Saphira did to an even greater magnitude, hated himself. He hated the person Galbatorix had made him become and he hated Galbatorix for turning him into a monster, someone unrecognizable to even himself. It hurt him and through their bond, he felt Saphira hurting as well.

Unable to suppress his emotions any longer, he let go. He allowed the tears to pour down his face and allowed himself to scream and wail and beg. Everything that he had experienced during the past four months that he had locked away was resurfacing and pouring too quickly. He _couldn't _stop it and honestly, he was too far gone to even try.

He must have sat there for hours, just crying letting his pool of darkness slide out of him until finally, he had no tears left to cry. He felt empty, numb, and shockingly peaceful. It was the first time he had felt peace in a long time, the first time that he felt like he could relax in a long time and denying the need was impossible. His eyes, fluttering shut and his breaths deepening, he fell into a deep sleep that he had not experienced since he had become a Rider.

* * *

"_I'm happy you've found some semblance of peace, Eragon." The voice that was becoming familiar to him spoke warmly._

"_Why do you keep appearing in my dreams? Are you like what I experienced when I dreamed of Arya?" His question was not as cold as most of his speech had been since his capture for two reasons. One, he was too exhausted to pretend that he didn't feel anything and two, this woman, whoever she was, genuinely interested him. He only wished he knew who she was._

"_No, your vision of Arya was something that occurred in the present. I am not in the present."_

"_Then are you in the future?" He was still so confused._

"_No, besides, you don't really have any particular gift of seeing into the future." She sounded almost amused, as if his lack of information on this particular topic was humorous._

"_What of the past?" He watched as the atmosphere around them change. Though she didn't speak, he could tell she was thinking about his words and they displeased her._

_When she finally spoke, it did nothing to sate his curiosity. "All will be revealed in time, dear Eragon."_

* * *

**Ugh. Wow. FINALLY DONE. It feels so good to finally say that. My hands are cramped from typing all day and I'm starving because I skipped over breakfast and lunch to get this done. You guys better love me for this. I blame myself and my inability to break promises. *sigh* I won't promise so much anymore.**

**So what did you guys think? The battle scene wasn't that good and this chapter SUCKED. Like seriously, if you hate it as much as I do, let me know and by next Sunday, I'll have this one rewritten and a new chapter ready to go. I promi- haha not gonna promise. Oh and who thinks they know who the voice is?**

**Now, I think I'll go get something good to eat and some sleep wouldn't be a bad idea either. Night guys.**


	12. Healing

He sighed, rolling a small object between two fingers. It had been a week since the battle and Eragon was given little time to recuperate from the ordeal. Between the ongoing celebrations of his escape from capture, the defeat of the Empire's army and reassuring the public that Murtagh would not harm them, he was kept quite busy.

He had been looking forward to the peace the next few weeks would undoubtedly give him only to have those hopes torn out from under him leaving him a in pit of dissatisfaction. The moment he was no longer being pulled by ten different people to a whole assortment of places, Bid'daum had begun both his and Murtagh's training. While he was generally grateful for the help the great dragon provided, he wished they would actually begin _learning _something. They had spent three days relaying all of what they had been taught to their new master and were rather dismayed when he began to review the things that they would probably never forget.

At this particular moment, they were listening to a lecture of what to do if a saddle strap were to snap mid-flight. Unfortunately for them, this was all something that had been drilled into their minds from the beginning of there training. Murtagh seemed to be having a difficult time not falling asleep. He might have rolled his eyes if it were not for the fact that he had such a tight control on his emotions.

Saphira was proud of him. In the week since they had been reunited, they had resumed their bond and shared each and every thought with one another. They were so well versed with each other that their minds didn't need to be connected for the other to understand what one was thinking.

Saphira had slowly, without his true knowledge of it, began to encompass his mind, healing it as much as he could and if he was to be honest, he would say she was successful. It was true, he still showed no emotion on the outside, but now, he could admit to himself, only with minor difficulty, that he really did feel things.

He would never admit it to Saphira, but he felt as though he was a child. He was, quite literally, being taught how to feel again and the emotions that ran wild across his mind almost made him flinch. His emotions were dark. He had tried to lighten them with optimistic thoughts, often echoing reasons to why he _should _be happy after such an unrealistic escape, and he was met with limited success on some occasions, others, however, he was not so successful.

He would always find a trickle of bad thoughts flowing into his mind, citing reasons as to why he shouldn't believe what his emotions made him feel, that he should trust others as they would only betray him, hurt him. While Saphira had tried, rather desperately, to remove such thoughts from his suffocated mind, she could destroy those morbid thoughts.

Even so, Saphira was proud and she broadcasted that to her Rider. It was true, he was still little more than a broken mess and that he would likely have trust issues for quite sometime, he had made progress and that was something to be commended. Eragon had come along way. From the Rider whom was numb, with no semblance of anything even remotely similar to happiness, to the Rider who could admit that he felt _something _in a _week _was huge.

Eventually, he knew, his dragon would want him to become the child he was before he was captured, but that was the problem. He was a _child _before he was captured and although he wished that he had not been captured, it did, in the end, play in the Varden's favor. That particular thought made him scowl. Was he only a weapon to the Varden? Was his pain something to look forward if it brought about Varden victories? The idea sickened him.

Even so, he could never be the person he was before his torture. The very idea was unrealistic. How could he become something he despised? How could he ever allow himself to fall back into his childish outlook at life? It was something that many seemed to be hoping for, though he supposed they would be disappointed when they realized that they would never see the pitiful excuse for a Rider that he once was, again.

He sighed once more, though Saphira would undoubtedly want him to become the boy he was before, he could not truly take such a large step. He would be too vulnerable, too open and that could not be allowed. He would be back in the same situation that had gotten him captured in the first place and that could not happen again. He could not survive that again. He could not be subject to such torment again and be expected to make it out as well as he did the first time, if that could even be considered well.

No, he decided at that very moment, he would never become the person he once was. He would be too weak, too naïve. None other but himself and his dragon would be privy to his emotions and under no circumstance would he allow himself to feel emotions that could cause his eventual defeat. Love… Happiness… They were all weak emotions and thus they would not be felt by the blue Rider. From this day, to the end of the war, this is how he would be.

Perhaps at the end of the battles and the misery he would allow himself a taste of happiness, but never too much. He could not risk getting addicted to something only to have it ripped from him when he least expected it. Squeezing his eyes shut, ensuring that no one, not even Saphira heard his silent murmurs, he vowed to himself. _Never again…_

* * *

The elven princess wanted to hit something. Badly. Her head was pounding and she had received no sleep the past few nights. No, all of them were spent pacing back and forth in her room debating over her next course of action.

As of right now, she was in a courtyard, outside of the keep in Dras-Leona. She was currently being tormented by an array of thoughts ranging from matters of complete insignificance to the most important factors of this war.

Glancing up the sky, she observed clouds rolling in and pieced together the dropping temperature. Winter was coming and with this sole thought, another dozen popped into the boiling pot that was her mind. She simply couldn't take it anymore. The stress was getting to her and she already had enough to worry about without the thought of how the Varden was going to get through the winter.

She looked into an arbitrary direction before taking off at a speed that even elves would find difficult to mimic. The feeling she received was ecstasy. Her feline like muscles, tightened to the point of physical pain, loosed and anyone who saw her would have gasped at the grace she so easily portrayed.

She ran for hours in no specific direction, simply enjoying the way the wind whipped through her hair and her muscles burned. Each minute she spent running she was pushing her limits. She had already been thoroughly exhausted from the nonexistent sleep she had endured during the past few nights and her lack of recuperation after the battle, and running, while freeing, was quickly exhausting her.

Still, she pushed it, forcing her trembling limbs to keep working. She kept up her grueling pace until she no longer had the energy to do anything, including thinking. To not have a hundred thoughts buzzing around her head at once was something she marveled in, having not felt it recently.

It was only when she stopped, the cool sweat dripping down her temples and into the crevice of her neck whilst a breeze blew upon her that she regretted her decision in coming out here. How foolish it was to traverse through the forest when the night was drawing and the winter rolling in. Tonight would no doubt be cold and she had not the energy to get back up and travel to the Varden. She even doubted her abilities to perform simple tasks like making a fire and foraging for something to eat.

She looked in the direction that the Varden was located in, at the speed she was traveling at combined with the time she spent running, she guessed that she was about a hundred leagues away from the Varden. She sighed, the scouts would never be able to get this far and find her and even if they did, she would not let them escort her back. How weak would it make her look to be accompanied back by a human who was no more then a child compared to her century.

She quickly chastised herself for being so judgmental. Eragon was human and was quite young, even by human standards. Yet he had overcome all odds and exceeded all expectations that were set for him, human and elven alike. He was a mystery, an enigma, as Ajihad had so wonderfully put what seemed like a century ago.

She should not be so quick to chastise another race, especially when it was the humans that had truly allowed them to get this far. Who was it that had stolen Saphira's egg? A human. Who had fought in battles without nearly as much skill with weapons or magic as the elves possessed? Humans. Who continued to pursue the war effort in ending Galbatorix's reign though the elves had pulled away at her capture? Humans. They were devoted to there cause and she had to admit that they too had good qualities in them. She should not judge, especially not when he closest friend was indeed a human.

As though these thoughts were a beacon to him, as if she was calling him out with her mind, he appeared, high in the sky on his magnificent sapphire dragon. They landed, circled above her head, with no real spot to land without damaging the forest before she watched Eragon leap from Saphira's back to a branch near her hovering position. In this fashion, he climbed his way down to her, with more grace then she though he had ever possessed.

On more than one occasion, she had offered her company only to be rebuked in a surprisingly eloquent manner. Still, it concerned her. What happened to the boy who was so eager for her attention. Was he so badly scarred from his encounter with the King that he could no longer find it within himself to smile, to truly feel joy? Was that even a question?

She had been tortured for nearly three and a half months by a shade and those three months left her scarred beyond belief. She had been utterly broken at the end. With the knowledge that her closest friends were gone and that unbearable remembrance of agony that seemed to capture her even after she had escaped her prison, she could not even begin to imagine what his own torture was like.

He was there, in the presence of the King, the very being that they were so desperately fighting, for longer then she had been. He was unmistakably introduced to various methods of torture that she had most likely never even heard of before. He was broken, even more than her and she could do nothing about it.

She wished she could comfort him, wished she could make him see that she understood, but in truth, she couldn't even begin to comprehend the magnitude of the pain he had endured to protect the Varden, the Elves, and his dragon. She was eternally grateful for his efforts, she just didn't know what to say to help alleviate some of the pain he had to bear.

"You look tired." She glanced up, noting the cold voice and the blank stare.

"I am fine, I assure you." She was curious as to how he would respond.

He nodded before voicing his affirmation. "Very well." She half expected a concerned expression to cross his visage and an ill thought out offer that what most likely lead to her indignation. As she thought before, he was an enigma.

He spoke once more, making his nonchalant voice seem like a normal part of his life. "Saphira and I were in the area when we sensed a familiar presence. We are heading back to the Varden and Saphira invites you to ride back with us." Once more, she expected him to nervously fidget or to even blush in embarrassment with the question posed. The only thing she could comprehend at the point was that he had changed more then anyone should be able to in such a short amount of time.

If this offer had been presented in any other way, she would have declined, stating that she was not a feeble human girl and she could easily make her way back to the Varden with no problem whatsoever, but something just seemed so different about him. Perhaps it was the way he presented himself. Even in the way he walked, he had a powerful gait, lazy and graceful at the same time giving off and intimidating aura. The way he didn't seem to care one way or another whether or not she expected or rebuked his offer almost enticed her.

"I… Yes. It would be appreciated." Her voice, spoken with slight hesitation seemed to be weak compared to his own sturdy one. When had he gained more control over his emotions than she had? This was utterly mad.

Rather then answering her, he looked up, silently signaling Saphira and then straightened his gaze back to her. "There is a clearing just a league North of here where Saphira can land. Shall we?" He didn't even wait for her answer and had it not been the courteous thing to do, she would have guessed that he would have left the "Shall we?" out.

Forcing her now cooled limbs to work through the exhaustion, she caught up with him. They walked at a leisurely pace and she kept her eyes trained upon him at all times, though discreetly enough so that he would most likely not notice.

The entire time, his face stayed in a stony expression until she felt compelled to speak, as though the silence was suffocating. "How… how have you been, Shadeslayer?"

He didn't even look at her, he simply kept his eyes trained forward, in the direction that they were walking.

"Well." That was his only answer and she once more assumed that he would simply remain silent again but he surprised her… again. "And you?"

She blinked, attempting to hide her emotions from crossing her visage. "I'm well…" When he made no other move to speak, she began again. "Eragon, I understand. I really do. The hurts you have accumulated could be compared to an elf ages older then you." Taking a deep breath to collect her thoughts, she continued. "I am here fo-"

"We are here." That was all he said before he walked over to Saphira, and leaped onto her back making it look like it had taken no effort at all. He didn't look at her or even extend a hand as she was accustomed to him doing. She leaped onto Saphira's back, using much more effort then she allowed to show.

Without further ado, the sapphire dragon leapt into the sky, carrying them both back to the Varden. It was at this moment, with her arms wrapped around her wounded friends waist and his warmth radiating through her being that she was slowly lulled to sleep.

* * *

**Alright then. Well that's done... Does anything really need to be said? **

**For those of you who are all like "WHOA! This is a short chapter." Well yes. It is. I am unbelievably tired and I'm too busy on the weekdays to write anything then so all my chapters are usually written on Saturday and revisions are made Sunday morning. That didn't happen this weekend because my friend was throwing this big back to school party at her house and I was with her all Saturday helping her transform the place into something people would want to have fun in. So everything was done today while I was babysitting possibly the worst kids the universe has ever known. Dead serious, these things cannot be considered human. They're EVIL!**

**Moving on. This chapter is quite obviously a filler. I couldn't really put much else into and you guys will all see what Eragon's lessons will be like soon enough. I figured Bid'daum would at least need to know the extent of their knowledge before he began teaching them himself. And I really am sorry about the last chapter guys. I was like... delirious? I promise to get better. A lot of you guys have been wanting Eragon to have a moment with either Orik or Roran. I was going to include that this chapter but I decided I was going to save it for the next one because I want Eragon's healing process to begin next chapter. **

**Two more things. I will not reveal who the voice is just yet and you guys are right. Selena does seem really obvious and honestly, in my opinion, a little overwritten. So maybe it is her, maybe it isn't. Two. How pissed would you guys be if I added OC? Because occasionally there will be a good fic with OC's but other times I want to scream because it's so bad. It's kind of up in the air at this point, I could go either way. Let me know what you think.:)**


	13. Enlightenment

_This is rather pointless, _Murtagh exchanged irately with Thorn. _There is literally no purpose in this task._

Thorn, as though he was speaking to a child, chastised his Rider. _It is necessary. As of right now, at this very moment, we are but fleas to the King. Imagine what our strength will be like at the climax! _His tone was excited. Thorn apparently did not comprehend the immense amount of work that would go into making them powerful Riders. That particular thoughts made the Red Rider stifle a groan.

_Aye, Thorn. Just don't get too excited. _His tone was reproachful, but what could be expected from the young man whom had seen enough to drive another insane?

He sighed and began focusing back on his current task that had led to all of this frustration. He was at a waterfall, about twenty leagues North of the Varden. The particular exercise was to gain more control over your magic. The basic idea was that he had to stop that waterfall from flowing and hold it that way for one minute. Granted, the waterfall was not overly large, and he could easily stop it with his reserves. If only it was that simple.

He had to stop that water without using the Ancient Language. Casting the magic with his mind, he was to catch every particle of water and hold it in air. Casting magic with your mind was difficult enough, but stopping every drop of water was something unbelievably difficult. The sun was setting and he had been out here almost all day. His reserves were low and he had yet to accomplish that task given to him by Bid'daum. It annoyed him immensely that he was so incapable of the control over his magic.

He would have to call it a day soon. He was utterly exhausted and if he kept going, he would most likely fall unconscious, or worse, die. Still, he was stubborn. He felt so incompetent, so _weak. _He should not be having such a hard time when spells like this used to be as simple as lifting a pebble. It was only then that he stumbled upon the realization of exactly _why _he was so powerful.

His strength, was borrowed. It belonged to the dragons that had been forced to serve, to the King. It disgusted him to know that he was this weak without the added on magic of the Eldunari. He felt sick. How did it ever get so out of hand. His mind had actually fooled itself into believing that it was his own strength when in reality, it was stolen. He was a monster, a cold blooded, killing, monster.

* * *

Eragon was currently completing the same lesson as Murtagh, only with a much larger waterfall. The water, never ceasing to end, annoyed him greatly. It was an idiotic annoyance; who could expect that water to stop flowing simply because he wished it? Still, this task annoyed him and drained him of his energy leaving him tired and in a rather nasty mood.

The sun had set over an hour ago and he was the fool still out here, forcing himself to complete this task. Saphira had asked him hours ago to stop being so stubborn and to come back to the keep where he could rest his weary body. He had ignored her. He couldn't deal with the idea of him being weak, so rather then giving into his bodies growing desires of rest, he pushed his limits.

Bid'daum had also cautioned him. He made Eragon give an oath in the Ancient Language that he would travel back to the Varden when he was too exhausted to keep going, rather than kill himself. But Eragon couldn't except failure, he couldn't except _weakness._ If he so easily excepted defeat, so easily gave in when he thought he could go no further, then he would be a pitiful Rider. In truth, he already _thought _that he was a poor excuse of a Rider and he was determined to change that perception of himself.

If he had to stay out here all night to complete his task and acknowledge the fact that he was not weak, then he would. Once more, putting his soaking hands against the flowing water, having the fast current skim against them, he channeled his magic his magic into his hands while simultaneously uttering in his mind, _Letta du adurna. _Stop the water._  
_

This time, his results were more obvious than before. Almost all of the water pouring of the cliff had stopped. Though there was still quite a bit falling, a majority was being held up with his magic and that satisfied him temporarily. While he was basking in his partial success, he failed to notice his waning strength and the build up of water on the top of the cliff. It was only when his reserves reached the pitiful bottom that he took notice of the massive amount of water he kept in the air and fact that if he kept holding it there that he would undoubtedly perish from the sheer amount of energy it took to sustain such magic.

With wide eyes, the he lost concentration over the magic and the water fell... right over his head and sweeping him off of the rock he had planted himself on to complete his assignment. He was swept downstream, pushed to the bottom of the river and where he hit his head and where he sank slowly to the bottom. His vision began to fringe at the corners though he was certain that he saw red swarming around his head. _Blood? _It was a miracle he could process that thought.

The need to breathe became more apparent but each time he tried moving his limbs, it sent a burst of pain to his skull. Perhaps this was it. The Varden had a Rider with as much of a chance at beating Galbatorix as the did with him. He would finally be free of his burdens, free of the hell people called life. The relief that came with this thought was palpable. As his body finally reached the bottom of the river, his eyes drifting close, he saw something.

It was dark, swimming towards him quickly, desperately if he did not know better. It didn't matter, it was probably just a fish coming to see what had disturbed its home, perhaps a turtle. His resignation should have worried him, but he couldn't bring himself to care anymore. He was finally free and that was possibly the most amazing that could happen to him.

* * *

_When she awoke, she was surprised to find herself on her cot. Based on the light filtering through her tent, she correctly assumed that it was morning and that she had slept throughout the night. She shouldn't have been so surprised, as she had been pushing herself past her limits for almost two seasons now, but still, for to actually _sleep _was surprising._

_Arya did not often sleep, she would put herself in the trance elves use and consider slumber but she quickly found that it was not even remotely the same. When in the trance, you were still constantly aware of your surroundings and even the slightest sounds can set you off. This was one of the few times that she had ever slept before in her life. The first time was when she was a child and the second, after her ordeal in Gil'ead._

_Sighing, she looked over only to shock herself again. On top of the table on the opposite side of her tent, she found two days worth of meals. _Two days? Did I really sleep so long? _Shaking her head in an attempt to clear it of its grogginess, a rather annoying side effect of sleep. She quickly pushed herself up, wincing as she felt her tight muscles throb. She was in desperate need of stretching and to bathe, but before that, she was hungry._

_Forcing herself to keep moving, she walked to the table and picked the freshest food left for her. It was still warm and must have been left only minutes before she woke. Recognizing the lack of meat on the plate, she wondered who had done so much for her. Was it Eragon's guard or was it, dare she believe it, Eragon himself? The thought of him taking care of her pleased her in the oddest way._

_In any case, whoever it was must have known of the elven disdain towards meat. She would find out who this person was, if only to sate her curiosity. Finishing her rather large breakfast, she took of for a clearing where she could stretch and that was near some source of water. _

_She had just arrived when her sensitive elven ears picked up on a metallic _clang, _about a league away. Curious and also slightly cautious, she ventured towards the sound only to be greeted by the sight of Eragon and Murtagh sparring.__  
_

_They appeared to be perfectly matched and both had sweat dripping down their bodies. She watched in intrigue as they danced around each other striking with perfectly aimed blows yet never hitting the other person who had just as much skill in blocking and parrying. It was indeed a magnificent sight to behold. Though she supposed if she was to truly critique the swordplay happening right before her eyes, she would have to say that Murtagh looked as though he was struggling, albeit slightly. In truth, it was not surprising. Eragon had the speed and strength of an elf and without the added on strength of the Eldunari, Murtagh didn't stand a chance._

_Still, the fact that he could hold his own for so long without failing miserably was something to be commended. She herself had fought Eragon and she watched as he turned from the boy with a hundred different things buzzing through his mind, to utter blankness. She watched as he matched her century of experience with his own eighteen years. It was remarkable, that he could fight so well, and his brother appeared to be no different. _

_Finally, Eragon appearing to grow weary of the never ending battle, picked it up. It was only a subtle difference in fighting, but it made it that much more difficult for Murtagh. With a particularly hard blow to Murtagh's sword, Eragon slid his own sapphire blade down the ruby one and into Murtagh's guard. He quickly disarmed Murtagh and before she could even blink, the sword was on Murtagh's neck. _

_Eragon stepped back and spoke something that she could not hear due to the distance separating them. Murtagh quickly nodded and hustled away, though Eragon was left standing there. Finally, he spoke, just loud enough for her to hear. "Are you just going to stand there?" She didn't allow her surprise to show. She hadn't thought the blue Rider knew that she was there. He was just full of surprises._

_She slowly walked out, hesitant to interrupt what could very well be a lesson. "I was not aware that you knew of my presence." She had finally reached him and was still reluctant to be here. Something made her feel odd about him, almost cautious though that was not the right word. What she couldn't understand is what was so different? Before he had been captured he was her friend, her brother in ways and his confession of feelings for her had been nothing more then a nuisance. So why now did she feel odd? Why did he stir these feelings within her? These feelings that she could not even identify._

_"Do not discount me, Shadeslayer. I am not the child I once was." His tone seemed almost indignant, and that for some reason, made her feel apologetic. She had, albeit unintentionally, insulted him and that, was unacceptable. _

_"I apologize, Rider. I had not intended to offend you, forgive me if it appeared that way." She watched with him feeling... -_anxious_?- about whatever his response may be._

_"It is I who should be sorry. I fear that I am not in the mood for a conversation, Arya Svit-Kona. I must bid you good day." With that he began to walk away, more grace in his step then ever before and that fascinated her._

_"Wait!" He turned, brow raised looking at her questionably. "Was it you?"_

_"What do you mean?"_

_"Were you the one that cared for me when I was... recovering." She hoped it was him though she couldn't imagine why._

_"I have not the time to watch over you princess." Her eyes fell without meaning to and she hope he hadn't seen. "I asked my guard to do so and they were more than happy to oblige." _

_She couldn't help the feeling of disappointment that swept over her. Looking up again, she noticed him walking away, silently to the point where she could not hear him though they were relatively close. "Good day, princess."_

* * *

She remembered that day, perhaps a little more clearly then she wanted to. She tried to convince herself that everything she felt was because she was groggy and disoriented. She tried but for some strange reason, she could not state those words in the Ancient Language. She had an inkling as to why she felt the way she did, but it could not be allowed. She would rather live in ignorance, sweet, blissful, ignorance, then admit to these feelings. Her pride and becoming a distraction her main worries.

So rather then act on whatever she may feel for him and end up hurting them both because they could not act on those feelings she remained in the dark, keeping them both temporarily safe. It was only later, nearly a fortnight after watching him spar that she realized that he already lived with that pain, or at least he used to. She doubted he felt what he once did towards her anymore, he did not even seem capable of feeling anything anymore and she hated it.

One of the things she liked the most about him was the fact that you could always see how innocent he was. His intentions could be read through his eyes and his morals were absolutely impeccable. Now, he was cold, his innocent gaze was more haunted then anything, and morals no longer seemed to exist for him. She missed him, the old him, more then anything. She missed her brother, her best friend and if she allowed herself to think it, something more.

Murtagh had arrived back from training, thoroughly exhausted, and went straight to his room where he promptly fell asleep. No one, however had seen Eragon. It was well past dark and Saphira had been growing increasingly worried. The sapphire dragon was close to going out and carrying him back as he was so exhausted. Saphira was still within contacting so she knew nothing had gone wrong, she was simply worried that her Rider was pushing himself to hard and if Arya was honest with herself, she was too.

Saphira, whom had been fighting the desire to hunt finally gave in at Arya's prodding. The poor sapphire dragon tried her hardest to never leave her Rider alone and was still suffering from undernourishment and her health, though significantly better from what it was a fortnight ago, was still unsafe. Arya, vowing to bring the blue Rider back took off the moment Saphira took off to hunt.

She arrived just in time to see Eragon getting swept back by the current, just in time to see him go underwater and not come back up. Disregarding her own safety, she dove in after him feeling the current push her, hopefully in the direction that he friend was in. The unexpected flow of water had disrupted the sandy floors of the river, making it impossible to see anything.

She was quickly running out of air, so with a push to the top, she gasped in air only to dive back down to the bottom, casting our her mind. It wasn't easy to find him at first. With the amount of fish and other water breathing animals scurrying around on the riverbed, locating one life form, no matter how complex, was difficult. She had to go up for air two more times before she found him and it took another gasp of air for her to reach him.

He had reached the bottom of the river and though his eyes were open, it was as if he wasn't really seeing. She saw the cloud of red, which she soon identified as blood, pooling around his head before her mind kicked her into gear. She kicked to the top pulling him with her. They were at the bottom of the river and though it was a fairly shallow river, it still took time to get to the top.

When they finally reached the top, and broke through the surface, Arya was gasping, desperate to get in air and praying to whatever deities may or may not exist, that he would be fine. Fear was no a common emotion for her to feel, but she felt it then and much stronger than she had ever felt it before. Not fear for her, no she would be fine, it was fear for her companion. The one she was trying so desperately to save.

They reached the bank in less then a minute and the moment they were there, Arya had Eragon on his back in the sand and she was on her knees listening for a heartbeat. The crashing of the river made it all the more difficult to identify and she sat there for a minute trying to hear _something, anything. _Finally, when she had all but given up hope, she heard a faint _thump, _repeatedly. It was weak, but it was there and not a second would be wasted in attempting to save him.

Putting her hands over his chest she pressed down, pushing the water out of his lungs. She kept going though no water was coming out. This was terrifying. She didn't know why, but she couldn't bear to lose him. If she did, she might as well die too. Her relief was extraordinary when she watched the water spew out between his blue lips.

Turning him over so that he wouldn't choke, she held him as his lungs emptied the rest of the water. When he finally finished coughing, he went limp, his already motionless body look dead. Just when she felt like he would be fine, that he would recover and she didn't have to worry, he went limp. Every muscle in his body slackening and her fear increasing a hundredfold.

She didn't know what else to do for him, how else she could save him. Not allowing herself to do nothing, she tried something that she was sure she would regret later. She placed her lips on his and breathed for him. Pushing her own air into his lungs and pushing down on his chest to exhale. She didn't know what she hope to accomplish, but it

The blue Rider drew in a gasp of air before coughing out the remaining water that resided in his lungs. He was completely oblivious to everything that had just happened and Arya wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing. She supposed it was a good thing as that would prevent him from raising questions and approaching her if he did indeed still have feelings for her. That was only part of her problem.

Why was it that when Arya touched his lips she felt a jolt go through her body to the point where she shivered? Why was it that though it could not even be considered a kiss that it was pleasurable? Why did she become so warm though she was near frozen with the cold river water covering her skin? Why did she _like _it? Why did she want to do it again?

Looking up at him now, Arya finally resigned herself to what she had known since she got him back. She loved him. She would have to try her hardest not to let him find out, that would be horrible. What if he did not reciprocate her feelings? What he forsook the Varden for her? There were too many risks, but after the war, she would go to him. If he didn't love her, then she would stand by his side as a friend. The same thing he has been doing for her for so long.

There were not many things she was certain of in this world she lives in. In fact, there was only one and that was the fact that was hopelessly in love with the Varden's Rider and she would suffer until she could call him hers.

* * *

**Now, I don't know why, but when I wrote "Perhaps a turtle," I couldn't stop laughing. Like seriously, it was bad... did they have turtles in Alagaesia? You know what, I don't care. It's a fabricated world and I'm including turtles... Anyways... sorry for being a little late. I was busy all last week and homecoming is on Saturday so its a lot of planning and stress. Be forewarned, I may not have another chapter out on Sunday. Homecoming is a day before that so I doubt I'll be able to write much if anything. I will attempt to have something put out next week though, during the weekdays if I have no choice.**

**One last thing, MUTILATION HAS 98 REVIEWS! I was actually just looking to see how many we had because I knew we were close... BUT 2 REVIEWS AWAY?! SOOO EXCITING! :D I LOVE YOU GUYS:)**


	14. A Puzzle

_Darkness, swimming through his visage, calling upon him with seductive temptation. The self-control that he exuded was barely enough to resist succumbing to neutrality that the blackness had created. It was impossible, yet possible, irresistible, yet he resisted._

_He could have been there for seconds, or years. There was no measure of time such a place, in fact, there was nothing. Nothing existed in this world, no, not even him. He should have been frightened at the realization, but he was not. The only thing he could feel at this moment was the silent need to let go, to allow himself to fall into the darkness. _

_He needed so desperately the freedom that would come with these actions, he needed to feel the sorrow and trepidation of the outside fade away so that he was be frozen forevermore in the black._

_Suddenly, with complete randomness, he felt a tug at his center. The unmistakable pull that threatened to force him from the darkness that had welcomed him so freely. It enveloped him, softly, so very gentle, and not pulled, but carried him back, never letting his inner demons blind him._

_Perhaps that was why he was being pulled out, because in the darkness, he _was _blind. He could not see and his demons were descending upon him. He would have been trapped in hell, forever experiencing torment that he no longer had the strength to face._

Saphira! _The thought was the only thing that could reach his mind anymore. He had been a fool. He had given up when his dragon needed him and now, there was no going back. Now he was destined to live a life without his dragon and his dragon, without him._

_If he had the ability to sob, to cry out, to do _anything _he would have. That, however was just the problem; He couldn't perform those actions. He had thought he was numb before, but without his dragon, he could not even be considered number. He was empty; completely and utterly lifeless. _

"_Hush child, your dragon will live on, as will you." The echoing voice that was occurring more and more in his mind had once again, saved him from the destruction he wrought about so easily._

_Unable to form words he just looked at her, the magnitude of his sorrow beseeching her, begging her for the help he knew not if she could give. It was only then that her appearance was processed within his mind._

"_Mother?"_

* * *

His eyes flew open and he jolted up only to be met with unforgiving pain and a horribly cracked throat. Turning over onto his stomach, he coughed up the rest of the water that had taken space in his lungs. It was an utterly horrid experience.

His lungs were sore and gasping for air, his throat burned, his eyes watered, his skin was chilled with the icy cold water of the river, and his skull felt like it had been split in half; yet through it all, he had the oddest sensation on his lips. They tingled though he could not imagine why.

When he was certain that there was no more water in his lungs, he flipped over only to be greeted by sparkling green irises, shining with something he had not the capacity to recognize.

His throated burned terribly as he croaked, "Arya?" questioning her though it was obvious as to what occurred. It was only then that the shining emotion that he still could not recognize transformed into something that he knew all to well. Anger.

"What were you thinking?" The quiet voice she spoke with made her tone all the more terrifying. She looked stressed, exhausted and even, dare he think it, afraid? "What gave you the idea that you could just throw your life away?" She continued on, using the same dark voice that admittedly frightened him. "What about Saphira? What about Roran? What about the Varden?" It was only after in a much quieter voice, one that he had to strain his ears to hear and even then he was not sure if he had heard her correctly. "What about me?"

Eyes somewhat wide, he gazed into her blazing emeralds, filled with such anger that it made him, the man who had faced danger so that on all accounts he most likely should not have survived through, the man who had faced months of torture from the King himself, was terrified of an elven princess.

Not allowing his disarray of thoughts to show on his face he simply blinked at her. That only seemed to anger her more thoroughly. "Stop. Stop pretending that you are hollow. Stop pretending that you do not feel anything when I know it to be false." He glared up at her, taking her by surprise with his own anger.

"Pretending?" he queried. "I am pretending?" his voice shook with silent fury. "You, you of all people should know exactly how I feel, _princess. _You should know, better than _anyone _just how hollow I am. Are you not hollow? Are you not empty? Are you not _broken?_" Allowing his words to sink in, he did not catch the slightly hurt look that was portrayed across her face. "Do not _dare _ask me to stop masking myself when you do _exactly _the same thing."

The anger from her eyes faded, giving away to the immense sorrow that she felt. "I do know Eragon. I know exactly how much it hurts, and how desperately you try to keep everyone out, and I tell you from experience, that putting up such a façade, is folly."

Still feeling the effects of his anger, he glanced angrily at her. All she did was look right back at him. "Feeling pain should not be reason to become hollow, neutral. Nay, it should be motivation to find happiness in other things, other people." Glancing up into his eyes with a tenderness he had never seen within her before, she spoke soothingly, "Find happiness, Eragon, in whatever you can. I assure you, it will make everything worth while."

Feeling his anger seep away, he was left conflicted. Part of him, the part that had hopes of changing, of opening up and letting people see who he really was, wanted to do exactly as she said. Yet the other half of him wanted to close her out, keep everyone out and never risk feeling hurt again. Desperately confused and still so conflicted he whispered, "I am sorry."

She seemed conflicted as well, before she pulled him into her arms, holding him close and comforting him without words. It was an intimate embrace and he stiffened, but his mask was quickly crumbling. Finally, succumbing to the comfort he had never asked for, he let himself go.

No tears were shed, he had cried all that was left. No sobs escaped from and not once did his throat burn with the emotions he withheld. He simply let it go, let all the disappointment, all the self-loathe, all the hatred flow away from him. It would take a long time before he could completely let go of his contempt, but this was progress.

He would never admit what he felt enfolded within her arms. He would never admit the undeniable urge to pull her closer, the safety and comfort she exuded. He would never admit to himself how this one moment between them threatened to make him feel for her once more. He would never admit that despite the agony he had forced to endure that he still had tender emotions towards her.

The green-eyed beauty was someone who had become a part of him. He once loved her. She thought it was a mere passing fancy, something that he would quickly tire of when his responsibilities grew. She was wrong. What he felt was no childish infatuation, it was not simple lust on his behalf. No, he had truly loved her with all his being and when he was spurned, he resigned himself to pining in silence.

After the escapade in Uru'baen, he had not believed himself capable of such affection ever again. He had sworn that he would never feel something like that again. Such a fickle emotion was weakness. He was practically opening his chest to an enemy, handing them a poisoned weapon and cheering them on. This was completely impractical.

Yet within the confines of her arms, feeling his heart beating at a rate too high for a warrior of his caliber, he could feel a familiar emotion taking hold. Something sparked within him, kindling a fire that could only grow. He could not allow it to turn into a flame, for if it did, then he would be ruined. Never again would he love, not to the Elven Princess he held nor to anyone else. He had Saphira and in truth, that was all he needed. Though he could not quite force himself to believe that.

* * *

She held him, feeling her heartbeat increase in seconds. This was ridiculous. How, only minutes after the revelation that she loved him, did he make her feel as if she was a love-sick child? The very thing she had once accused him of being.

Holding his freezing body towards her own, she could feel her undeniable attraction. She wanted this, more than anything thing she wanted to be with him. Of course there were things that would be problematic. For instance, she was the Princess of the Elves and he was a Rider. She was destined to rule though she was not very optimistic for the role. She was much older than him, he was not a full elf, there was a war. The list could go on forever. Yet for every argument she made, there was always a solution.

Her mother could keep the Knotted Throne forever if she wished, she had no need for it. If it came down to it, Eragon could rule. It was true, no Rider save Galbatorix had even taken the throne before, but Eragon was no Galbatorix and he would never harm another being if they were not a threat, if they would not harm him or the people he loves.

As for the age difference, what was a century when they could live for all eternity? In any case, age was nothing but experience and what you learn from those experiences. In other words, age was wisdom and the blue Rider exuded a grace and wisdom she doubted that she would ever have to capacity to truly understand. With his experiences, he was at least as old as her and that was more than enough.

He was as much as an elf as he could be and a Rider. He would live as long as she, if not longer because of Saphira and though he had humanistic origins, he would never dream of leaving her for someone younger. He was not fickle, he would not hurt her in such a way. And yes, there was a war, but why was it impossible to have a drop of clean, pure, happiness inside a puddle of dark, ominous, ink?

The only problem in which she could not account for was his feelings. What if he truly did not feel for her anymore? What if he no longer craved her as he once did? What if he no longer wanted her as she now wanted him? What if she was too late. It terrified her to feel this vulnerable. If Eragon truly had to endure this, the idea that the one you love may not love you back, she would hate herself forever. She now lived in constant doubt as to what his true feelings may be and it was destroying her.

The fact that Eragon had known that she did not reciprocate his feelings must have hurt him and now, she was hurt because she had injured the one that she loved so deeply. She hated herself for what she had put him through. She hated that she forced him to feel like he was not wanted, like he was a mistake. All she wanted to do was avenge Eragon, though it would seem that had already happened as she now lived in remorse much the same as he did.

So caught up in her thoughts she did not notice quickly and powerful flap of wings pushing through the area or the immense amount of worry that the great being exuded. She glanced up just in time to see the sapphire dragon land and hear her worried growl. Had she felt Eragon's pain? Even at the distance they were seperated with? There bond must be truly powerful to support such a connection and she found herself envious of the notion. She wanted to be close to Eragon as well though she could not do so.

"Bjartskular." She should have frozen from the ice-cold river, but Eragon had warmed her in the most impossible way. He was truly a magnificent being, one she wanted desperately.

_You saved him? _She could feel the worry emanating from the massive expanse that was a dragon's mind.

"I did." The gratitude she felt coming from the dragon's mind was palpable. Lowering her head, the dragon gazed deeply into the now dark and weary eyes of the elf.

_Then I am in your debt. _No other words were spoken between them for a long moment. Then Eragon began to pull away and she found herself already wishing he was still in her arms.

* * *

She had just made her first kill when she felt a pulse over her link with her beloved little one. Something was wrong. That was the only thing she could process before she took off, flapping her wings furiously, not even recognizing that she had yet to eat. Something had happened to her Rider and she would take no chances. The thought of losing him again was the only thing on her mind and it could not be allowed.

The thought of Arya who had promised to find Eragon and bring him back home had barely crossed her mind when the anger set in. Her emotions contorting back and forth from concern to contempt, she could barely keep up with herself. This was unacceptable. The pointed-ear two leg would have to answer for her incompetence. She would be at her Rider's side in but a few moments, yet even that was too long. She could not seem to fly fast enough and though she had mostly recovered from her malnourished state, her muscles were still under worked and that was extremely detrimental to her cause.

Finally, after the agonizing wait and effort that it should not take to fly, she had recovered her distance from the Varden and her other half was right below her. It did not escape her mind that her Rider was being embraced by the very elf who had rejected him about a year ago, nor did she forget to register the fact that both seemed extremely conflicted.

Her mind joining Eragon's she recounted his experience and the most confusing of it all, the meeting with his mother. He had barely processed that the woman who had saved him a countless number of times was his mother and he had not been capable of further thought beyond that due to the distracting presence of the Elven Princess. It was not so much that her presence caused him to be unfocused, though it once did, it was rather that he was so confused as to why she was holding him and as to why he liked it. He could not believe that he liked the comfort she gave away so freely.

It was maddening and she could barely keep up with the speed his thoughts were flowing at. Unsure of what else to do, she spoke to the elf, expressing her profound gratitude. Still, she knew that if she did not get them out of the freezing weather quickly, Arya saving Eragon's life would be pointless. Reminding her Rider just how unfortunate it would be if they lost their lives because of the _weather, _she watched Arya mask her disappointment before she thought anyone had noticed. However Saphire _had _noticed and was now deeply suspicious.

Something had indeed happened to Princess two legs and she would find out. No being was greater than her in beauty or wisdom, not even the Princess of the Fair Folk.

* * *

Pulling away from her arms was both the most difficult and easiest thing he had ever done. The moments spent in her arms was an odd combination of peace and fear. Peace at the fact that he was safe for a few moments, but fear at what exactly? It was rather pitiful that he could not even comprehend his own emotions.

It took an enormous amount of effort to stand and an even greater amount to leap onto Saphira's unsaddled back which he only then realized could be slightly problematic. He could fly on Saphira in such a away because he was trained to do so, but Arya was not so experienced and most certainly would not enjoy the rather painful experience that this particular ride would give her.

Sighing he sifted through his options. Finding none that would leave him without an awkward confrontation, he sighed, resigning himself to the moment that was sure to ruin the fragile companionship that had _just _developed. With no way around it, he held out his hand, sincerely hoping that she would take it, not so he would be holding her hand, but so he did not have to correct her stance once she was already upon his dragon.

To his immense relief, she took his hand, a shadow of uncertainty just barely shown across her face as he pulled her up gently to sit in front of him. When she moved to sit before him, he stopped her, looking embarrassed.

Arya, glancing at him in confusion questioned, "Eragon?"

He sighed, this would most certainly be awkward and there was literally nothing he could do without risking her life. "Do not be offended by what I am about to say, Arya Svit-Kona." At her confused nod, he continued, "You are not an experienced flier and so it is with the utmost regret that I must put us through an awkward position to assure your safety. Understand that I do not do this to undermine your own abilities, however we are wet and our bones are chilled, it will be most difficult to prevent ourselves from slipping and even more so for one who is not a Rider."

He expected her to argue, to reprimand him and have her anger pointed at him as was often the case, but not this time. No, rather than arguing she simply nodded. He only hesitated for a moment before he pulled her down, not in front of him, but on his lap. She stiffened almost immediately before he leaned forward, unintentionally pushing his chest into her back. When he was close enough he whispered in her ear, his voice holding a tiny plea not to be angry with him. "I am sorry for this position, truly I am. However it is necessary. You may condemn me as you will when we reach the Varden."

He could have sworn he felt her shiver, though it must have been the wind. Arya had never even entertained the idea of being attracted to him let alone love him. He must have imagined it though he was slightly hopeful, though for what it was that he was so hopeful for was another story. He could scarcely figure himself out, so why did he have to worry about others managing to puzzle him out?

He sighed for what seemed like the millionth time that night. Everything was so confusing yet so very clear. It seemed impossible to be feeling so many things at once and yet being incapable of conveying them outside of his mind. A façade, Arya had called him. An enigma, Ajihad had once name him. Perhaps he was both or perhaps he was neither. In truth, he was a puzzle. If you truly took the time, looked not at the images portrayed, but at the edges you could piece him together and that was truly a sight to behold. Perhaps he was a puzzle though he felt incomplete. Perhaps he was a puzzle missing a piece. Perhaps, just perhaps, Arya could help him find that piece.

It never occurred to Eragon that Arya just may actually be that piece.

* * *

**Hey guys, 'Sup? 114 REVIEWS? AMAZING! I did my happy dance when I saw the reviews.**

**Now, I know I said that the voice may not be his mother and when I started writing this chapter, I had made the voice and OC. I finished the chapter and realized how much I hated that. I don't mind OC's if they're good, but I feel like if I include an OC in this story it was only be harmful. So yes, I have made the voice his mother, but you guys don't know how they're communicating yet so I guess that's good. Now I have a slightly more... awkward topic to discuss.**

**I'm just going to say this straight up. I got a couple PM's asking for me to write a lemon. Now I have nothing against lemons, in all honesty, they can make a story great if written properly and if you're mature enough to handle them, but I don't know if I could be capable of writing such things. In all honesty, I'm a virgin. It's not the fact that I'm inexperience or that I'm to embarrassed to write a lemon, I just don't know if that would be a good thing for the story and I also don't want to ruin something I've worked so hard on. So this is not a definite no, I'm going to give you guys a kind of choice I guess... PM me, review, it honestly doesn't matter, and tell me what you guys want. Lemons or no lemons? I'm not guaranteeing one and I'm not saying that there isn't going to be one, I'd just like to know what you guys think.**

**I actually have a poll going on the top of my profile page. Non-members can just leave a review for what you want. Thanks guys.**


	15. Family

It had been just under a fortnight since Arya had recognized her feelings, and even now, she could still feel the absolutely euphoric sensation of his lips upon her own reverberating throughout her entire being. It was utterly maddening and the amount of self-control she exuded was barely enough to keep her from reacting to such harmful emotions.

Even now, as the thoughts echoed through her uncharacteristically love struck mind, she could feel her emotions battering away at the burned, shredded and stomped on mask she had once so effortlessly worn. She felt like a liar; she felt unworthy of the ability to love and the irony of the situation was quite nearly palpable.

How ridiculous was it that she, the level-headed warrior Princess whom was known for always being stoic, fell for the infatuated child? The utter foolishness of such an idea nearly incapacitated her. It was almost too preposterous to be believable. That was just the problem though; it was true. She fell for him, she loved him, she _needed _him and she couldn't have him. It hurt, more than she could have ever possibly imagined.

It seemed their roles were reversed. For now he was the emotionless warrior, rarely removing his stoic expression from his face, so much like she used to be, and she, she was the infatuated fool. She felt as though she was an adolescent, captivated by her first fancy.

In truth, she had known that she contained feelings for the blue Rider, however, she had only suspected that such emotions were admiration and quite possibly adoration. Who could not admire him? Who could deny the simplistic beauty in his morals, the way he gave so selflessly, the way he never seemed to be thinking about himself. Who would not adore him? His easy smile and twinkling brown eyes; the innocence he held even after his torture.

Even his looks drew her in and she was not one to be easily captivated by a body. Though anyone with eyes would admit to the beauty the exotic Rider exuded. The rugged qualities of a human and the easy grace of an elf combined into such a beautiful man. It created an image that she could just barely comprehend.

She sighed, feeling rather remorseful. She had seen very little of the Rider lately and she was utterly terrified that he may commit another foolish attempt of ending what he though was pitiful excuse of a life. She still hadn't quite gotten over her initial anger at the fact that he hadn't even _tried _to save himself. She understood better than most people the affect that torture could have on a person, but this was ridiculous. She was ridiculous. She felt foolish for allowing so many emotions to run rampant through out her mind, yet she was helpless to stop them. She felt out of control and so incredibly confused that she just wanted to disappear.

She tried to think of the lack of his presence to be a good thing, it would give her time to sort out her befuddled thoughts. Such an attempt, however, was pointless. She seemingly could not impress upon her mind that time away from Eragon was a good thing. She could not help the way she wanted to see him and she could not quench the desire to kiss him and be with him freely. It went against everything she believed in, everything her kind believed in, but the magnitude of such emotions left her at a loss and she found herself not caring as to what her customs were. She wanted him and the only thing standing in her way was herself.

"Why me?" she muttered in a self-deprecating way.

In truth, she doubted even if she allowed herself to act on her feelings that the Rider would accept her. He was cold now and she doubted he would be eager to allow another into his heart. Regardless, she felt the need to try straining against herself control and she asked herself once more, was this what he felt like when she so heartlessly rejected him?

"Are you well, Dröttningu?"

She jumped slightly, startled by his smooth voice that had sounded out of nowhere.

Spinning around she was taken back by his appearance and had to fight the urge to gasp. He was more muscular than he was the last time she had seen him and he seemed to have gained back the weight he had loss from his tragic experience in Uru'Baen. He looked more like a man now rather than his usual boyish look that she had grown accustomed to. His hair, which was significantly shorter from the time before he was tortured, was wet and clinging to his forehead and he was dressed in a completely different attire from what he normally wore.

He once dressed in multiple different colors and had resumed doing so when he returned with her from the Empire. Now, he was dressed in all black as if he was expressing his new personality. His leggings clung to his legs and she had to force her eyes away from such an appealing image to allow herself to take in the new look the Rider advertised. His boots were jet black and went to and area just below his knees. She was surprised to see multiple daggers strapped to his legs. He was a walking arsenal.

Glancing up, she glimpsed at his shirt that was tight enough so that she could see the hard muscle beneath it. This particular shirt has no sleeves, allowing her to admire his think arms that could just as easily kill as they could hold her. The shirt had an elevated collar that went up and clung around his muscular neck.

He wore fingerless gloves around both hands that had metal plates stitched into the back of them with a dragon like figure engraved and she was surprised to see a similar tattoo etched onto his left shoulder. He wore Aren and the draconic ring he has found in Uru'baen on his left hand and finally, he had a new belt that was just as black as the rest of his ensemble with more daggers attached and Brisingr attached to the left side of his body. Overall, he was the epitome of warrior, a glorious one, at that.

Dragging her eyes up to gaze into his, she remember he had asked a question though it took a moment to remember what exactly he had asked.

"Yes, I am fine, Eragon. Simply lost in my thoughts."

He nodded, as if expecting the answer. "Yes, losing oneself in thought is not such a difficult thing to do although it did surprise me that you did not notice my presence." His voice was still as neutral as always.

"I was a bit… distracted. It shall not happen again." She nearly winced as she said spoke. Distracted; it was the exact word she had used to deter him when he confessed his love for her. "Was there a particular reason for you to seek me out, Shadeslayer?"

He blinked at her and she thought she saw amusement flicker through those brown orbs. The corner of his lips flicked up before he spoke, "No, not particularly. I merely wished to thank you for saving me the other day. I had not the opportunity to do so until now."

She nodded, swallowing thickly and hoped that he could not sense her nervousness. "Yes I suppose the Great White One keeps you rather busy."

"That he does."

She gave an uneasy smile before glancing at his arm curiously. "What does that mean?" she asked, looking pointedly at the tattoo on his arm.

He glanced at it before answering.

* * *

"It is a testimony to the power I have and the loyalty I have to the dragon Riders. It means that so long as I live, I will do whatever it takes to protect Alagaësia and the people who live here." He was rather prideful of the symbol though he knew for a fact that no one would be able to figure that out based on the montone sound that was his voice.

"That is a rather large expectation to live up too." It was a statement, spoken by the Elven Princess. Had it been anyone else, he would have assumed they were doubting his abilities. Though for her, it only appeared that she was making an observation.

He nodded before responding, "I am aware. It is my duty as Lead Rider to take responsibility for the lives of all the people whom live in this country just as it is my responsibility to rebuild the Riders." He paused, gathering his thoughts before continuing. "Even without this mark, it is still my duty to protect and rebuild, but this mark is a visual promise. Though most will not know what it means, I do and as such I will act accordingly."

She looked at him in a way he thought rather odd and as he watched her, he felt a strange warmth root in his chest as though he was kindling a fire. He was confused. He knew and understood what he once felt for Arya and he wasn't going to deny that he didn't admire her, but feeling such a warm feeling blossoming in his chest was something else. He didn't understand what it meant.

Before the warmth could become a flame, he doused it with cold, hard facts; the same ones she used on him not so long ago. She was too old, she was a Princess, they would be too distracted. More than that, he refused to allow another into his heart knowing that he could not survive it if they were taken away from him.

He felt the odd warmth fade and he quickly denied that he had ever felt such a thing. Though try as he might, he could not deny the newfound tension between them. It was there, in the air and completely identifiable. He wondered if she could feel it as well and quickly came to the conclusion that this feeling was simply too much to miss. He knew she could feel it. As a matter of fact, it was probably why she seemed so uneasy.

He could hear her speaking once again and quickly snapped out of his thoughts. She was looking at him expectantly as though expecting an answer. Feeling rather foolish and giving a small sheepish smile, he spoke, "I apologize, I was lost in thought."

She smiled. A real, genuine smile that a few months ago would have sent his heart racing. "It would appear that I am not the only one who becomes distracted by thoughts."

He could barely believe his ears. Was she… _mocking _him? For some reason, it pleased him to see such emotion displayed across her beautiful features. He frowned. Had he just admitted that she was beautiful? He was acting rather odd today and he didn't seem capable of controlling the flow of his thoughts. He inwardly sighed, he was falling back into his old routine where he was mesmerized by everything she did and he quickly pushed such emotions away feeling rather annoyed with himself.

_You seem to be in a rather good mood. _Saphira whispered throughout his mind, sounding thoroughly amused. He did his best to ignore her though it was not so easy.

She sent him the mental equivalent of a chuckle before her felt her presence expand across his mind. She spoke again, sounding rather pleased with herself, _I cannot help the fact that you succumb to her so easily. You have always had a weakness for her._

He sent her a mental glare before granting her a response. _I am… healing quickly. _He frowned, saying one more thing before he closed his mind off from her own. _I think it's because of her._

* * *

He was enjoying his day so far. He, like his brother, had accepted the _Edoc'sil Skulblaka _(Unconquerable Dragon), a tattoo that represented his loyalty to the people of Alagaësia. He knew Eragon was proud of the mark though the blue Rider did not give any outward display of pride. Though Murtagh was slightly prideful at the mark as well.

He felt responsible for all the destruction as of late and he was willing to do anything to redeem himself in the eyes of the people he had betrayed. He doubted the Dwarves would ever accept him and he could not blame them. He had killed their King. It was only to be expected. The humans and Elves, however, he hoped to gain redemption in their eyes.

He smiled, allowing hope to fuel his tired body. Training with Bid'Daum had been exhausting. The white dragon had finally agreed to allow Eragon and Murtagh to train together and he had a feeling that Eragon was even more exhausted than he was. Of course, Eragon was too stubborn to actually show the fact that he was tired, and that of course annoyed the red Rider.

He couldn't tell if Eragon was simply too prideful to ask Bid'Daum for a break, or if he was too stubborn. No matter which, Murtagh simply couldn't take another day of training without a small reprieve and so, he had all but begged his master to allow them a day to recover. Eragon had seemed rather annoyed but begrudgingly agreed to a day off.

Honestly, Murtagh didn't understand where his brother got his strength from. When they had begun training together, Eragon was still recovering from the affects of his torture. His muscles had been under worked and he had been extremely malnourished and barely had the energy to fight off a common soldier. It had been concerning but the brown eyed Rider seemed persistent and so Murtagh had kept a close eye out on his younger brother, making sure he didn't do something foolish.

Slowly, the elder Rider watched as his brother recovered. He watched Eragon fill out and his strength grow to a paramount level. Such an improvement after only a month was extraordinary. The red Rider found himself growing close to Eragon and soon, they had become friends again and finally, brothers. Eragon had confided in Muztagh a small bit since they had grown close and he was happy to bear the burdens his brother allowed him to shoulder.

He remember very well the day they had spoken.

* * *

_Murtagh groaned quietly. It had been a particularly difficult day and the winter air was biting at his sweat covered skin, cooling him for a moment, before freezing him the next. He watched as his brother, without so much as word began walking back to the Varden. Refusing to look weak and be left behind, the red Rider followed him._

_Finally catching up with his brown eyed brother, he watched him. Searching for even the smallest sign of emotion, before sighing after he found none. Eragon looked over at him expectantly as if waiting for Murtagh to speak his mind._

_The frown that had blossomed on his face seemed to grow in depth before he muttered, "I know."_

_He watched as the blue Rider's brows furrowed as he tried to decipher the meaning behind Murtagh's words. Eragon was about the speak when he was interrupted by the voice of his elder brother._

"_I know exactly how it feels to be tortured, day after day. I know what it feels like to lose yourself in the pain and how often the thought of giving up crossed your mind. I know what it feels like to shatter, to have absolutely nothing left but to keep on going because there is no other option. I know exactly how you feel. Hiding it won't make it go away, Eragon."_

_He watched as shock entered the Rider's eyes, the first glimpse of emotion he had seen reside there in what seemed like eternity. Just as quickly as the surprise appeared, it was gone. The blue Rider responded in a cold voice that seemed colder than what he normally spoke in if that was even possible. _

"_I'm sure you do. That doesn't change the fact that I refuse to show my weakness to others. I don't need to talk to another, to show anyone else my pain. I'd rather be alone."_

"_Why? So you can suffer in silence?" His own voice was hard and slightly elevated in volume._

_Eragon stopped and sent a piercing glare his way. "You expect me to talk to you about what I'm feeling? After you betrayed me, whether it was on your own will or not. After I suffered even more helping you escape the King's grasp. After you've hurt both me and Saphira? No, you have lost that right." He stepped in front of Murtagh before bringing his face only inches away from his own. "We may share blood, but you are not my brother." _

_As soon as he had said it, he had spun around and walked away without a second glance. Murtagh felt his own anger peak before he stomped angrily to the Rider, grabbed the man by his shoulders, spun him around, and punched him square in the jaw. _

_He watched Eragon's eyes grow wide with shock before narrowing as he tackled Murtagh to the ground and punched him equally as hard. _

_They must have fought for hours, exchanging punches and kicks until they were finally too exhausted to move and collapsed to the ground. Both breathing heavily and covered in sweat, despite the freezing weather. They admired the strangely clear sky and the stars that seemed so splendorous. In Uru'Baen, the stars had seemed so lackluster so the beauty of the night sky was a welcome change._

_They laid there for an unidentifiable amount of time, before Eragon, surprisingly enough, broke the silence. "I know how it must seem, the way I'm acting. I just… I can't let anyone in.. If I do, what happens when I lose them? Galbatorix knows about everyone I care about. He's already broken me once, who's to say he won't do it again?"_

_Stunned for a moment, Murtagh struggled to come up with a response. He sighed, realizing that eloquent words had no purpose here. "You cannot live your life constantly in fear. I would know. Thorn and I have lived in fear for so long. It hurts too much to imagine what he can do, so don't. Enjoy the moments you have, because they won't always be there."_

_No other words were spoken that night. No other words _needed _to be spoken that night. Those words echoed through Eragon's mind and he found himself enjoying this moment with his older brother. They laid there in silence the entire night, watching the mesmerizing beauty of the stars and healing each other, if only by a small amount._

* * *

That night had indeed been something important between to the two brothers. True, they had fought, but it had been necessary. Not all problems could be solved with words. They needed to get over the anger and hatred between them, so they did, in the best way they knew how.

Murtagh grinned. For the first time in a long time, he felt whole. "Thorn! Let's fly!" A joyous roar sounded over Murtagh's proclamation and only moments later, he found himself enjoying the flight with his partner of heart.

Opening his mind up completely, Murtagh and Thorn became one, something Bid'Daum had taught them and that Galbatorix had neglected. Their only form of communication were there emotions which were bordering on euphoria.

Even though most of the Varden hated the red Rider and desired nothing more than to kill him themselves, they were free from the oppressing black King and roaming the skies as a dragon and Rider should. Murtagh both watched and felt as Thorn tilted his wings to catch an updraft, allowing the wind to easily carry him.

Murtagh smiled one last time as he dozed off, welcoming sleep to overtake him.

* * *

_She is so beautiful. _Murtagh was awoken by the thought echoing throughout his mind. He looked around before finally seeing what, or rather who, Thorn was speaking of. He smiled slightly as he watched Thorn admire the way the setting sun caught the blue dragon's scale and reflect a beautiful hue of sapphire all around the area.

He chuckled before lightly responding, _Then why haven't_ _approached her yet?_

He felt Thorn's embarrassment and damaged pride before the red Dragon responded, sounding almost remorseful. _Perhaps I would if I thought she would ever except me. _

Murtagh frowned at his dragon's lack of self esteem. _What makes you think she wouldn't except you?_

His dragon let out a rather peculiar sound but he soon identified it to be a sigh. _When we train together, I can feel her suspicion. She still considers me the enemy and would undoubtedly kill me if I acted improperly._

Frowning slightly, feeling his once joyous mood fade away he considered his dragons predicament. Then he sent an encouraging nudge through their bond and smiled before ending the conversation with a simple, _I guess we'll have to change that then._

* * *

**BOOM. I'M BACK :D.**

**So I think I covered everything I had to say with my last AN, which by the way, I personally hate posting.. I hate ANs in general because... well overall they just suck. But here's the new chapter and I have three of the Christmas chapters written already. Honestly, the only reason I got so many done is because I've been sick and I've got time to kill. The other two will be done before you know it and I have a special surprise in those chapters. **

**So sorry for the long wait, I'm planning on wrapping this story up at around thirty chapters and by Christmas we'll be a twenty so that gives us about ten chapters to go. I'm personally hoping on finishing this story by the end of Febuary and then taking a little break from writing for a while... only a month or probably before that because I have a million ideas for stories that I need to write. Just one last thing before I stop annoying you.. The Christmas chapters might not be there when everyone wakes up simply because I have younger siblings that get me up at like 5 a.m. to open gifts and then the moment we're done we head to visit the rest of my family and most of them live like an hour or so away so the chapters may be posted a little later into the day. Thanks for being so faithful to this story and for not attempting to find my location and strangle me to death. ;)**


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